


Wave Over Wave

by diaryofageekgirl



Series: Kat's Mer!Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Case Fic, Cecaelias, Dog Owner Sam Winchester, F/F, Fluff and Angst, John Winchester (mentioned) - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Mentions of canon characters - Freeform, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Minor Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Minor Violence, Multi, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, References to Canon, Sort Of, Witch Sam Winchester, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaryofageekgirl/pseuds/diaryofageekgirl
Summary: Dean Winchester has spent his life on the ocean, hunting sea monsters and sirens and everything in between. One night, he's swept out to sea in a horrible storm, with no chance of survival.Four months later, he washes up on shore, safe and sound. All he remembers of that night is a pair of bright blue eyes watching over him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Hannah (Supernatural), Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Kat's Mer!Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729855
Comments: 91
Kudos: 60





	1. Gone Into A White Squall

**Author's Note:**

> Happy MerMay everybody! I've been obsessed with mermaids for pretty much my whole life, and this particular story has been bouncing around my head for about a year and a half. This is also my first multi-chapter fic, so please be gentle!
> 
> Fic title taken from the song of the same name by Great Big Sea. Chapter title taken from "White Squall" by Stan Rogers.

It was a dark and stormy night.

Cliché, maybe, but there’s simply no other way to put to words the fury and ferocity of the squall. The sky was ink-dark, clouds angrily swirling, the wind howling and buffeting the tiny ship. The men stumbled, grasping onto the rails for dear life as the sea buckled and heaved below them. The rain streaked down, creating a curtain that prevented anyone from seeing more than two feet in front of them, and making the deck slick and treacherous.

Every few minutes, a great flash of lightning split open the sky, throwing everything into blinding light, and a deafening roar of thunder quickly followed. They had known the storm was coming, they knew better than to go out on the sea tonight, but they had done so anyways. They always acted like they were stronger than nature, always thought they could outrun danger, and now they would pay for it.

The waves crested again, the ocean turbulent and bucking like a great beast trying to throw them off its back. There was shouting between the crew members, calling to tie down supplies and make sure everyone was on a line. Not a sound was heard between them as the storm swallowed their voices whole. The ship shuddered, tipping dangerously towards its port side, and another buffeting wave slammed it back upright. The crew was thrown to the deck like rag-dolls, slamming hard against it, the air leaving their bodies and being whisked away into the wind.

None of them saw the rocks coming.

The boat slammed into them with a mighty CRACK, once more throwing the men who had only just managed to regain their footing. Thankfully, they hadn’t hit the rocks dead-on, but a shrieking wail piercing through the torrent of rain made it clear that they were scraping all along the ship’s starboard side. After a minute or two, another shuddering slam, and they collided with more rocks, invisible through the downpour.

This time, the boat heeled over dangerously, and while most of the crew managed to grab onto the rails or be attached on a line, they watched as a single figure slid down the rain-slickened deck, crashed into the stanchion, and was swept off the side into the sea.

The rest of the men on the deck called out his name, hoping against hope that they could be heard through the storm, praying that the sea would save him, knowing with an icy dread deep in their hearts that it was never so kind.

They could only hope that the SOS transmission went through, and that someone would find them once the storm blew over. They grounded themselves more firmly on the rails, and hunkered down as best they could against the howling storm. It would be a long and dreadful night.

* * *

The waves broke around Dean as he was plunged into the sea, the water parting around his barely-conscious form with a muffled _ka-thoom_. A thick flume of bubbles twirled upwards past his body, flurrying up to break through the surface of the water. The storm still howled and raged above him like a wounded animal, buffeting the water, sounding distant from how far submerged he was. The waves were just as powerful beneath as above, and no matter how hard he tried to swim back up, Dean just couldn’t fight against the squall.

As the minutes seemed to drag on, Dean was forced further under the water, swept further out away from the ship. He struggled and thrashed against the waves, desperate to get back to the ship, get back to his crew. The more he fought, the faster the breath left his body. A thin stream of bubbles slipped from between his lips, a broken cry for help swallowed up by the ocean.

After what felt somehow both like an eternity and an instant, the last of the air left Dean’s lungs. His limbs grew heavy, his vision blurred, and his eyes drifted shut as his body drifted, unconscious, down into the depths.

* * *

An uncertain amount of time later, Dean heard murmurs of voices somewhere off to his right; one sounded like a soft but steady feminine alto, while the other was an impossible deep baritone rumble. They sounded…funny. Like he was hearing them from behind glass, or underwater, or something. He blearily forced his eyes open, only able to separate the lids by a slit. He tried to turn his head to look towards the voices, but his muscles were unresponsive. He tried twitching his fingers and shifting his legs, but they were similarly useless. He lay motionless for a while, straining to hear the voices better, but they were just too muffled to make out anything specific.

He didn’t remember falling asleep again, but he must have, as he found himself opening his eyes a slit again. This time, everything was silent around him. Once again, he tried to move, shift any part of his body, and again his limbs were unresponsive. He was able to stay awake for another minute or two before he passed out again; just as his consciousness started to fade, he caught sight of a flash of bright blue.

He awoke at least a dozen more times, each time for only a minute or so. He saw the same flash of blue several times, and only heard the voices twice more – he was fairly certain they were the same voices, but it was hard to tell with how muffled they were. The final time he awoke, it was to a white-hot searing pain in his shoulder. He reflexively screamed, but all that came from his throat was a piteous whimper. He tried to thrash, to get away from the pain, but his body still wouldn’t move. He blacked out again, this time from the agony; his vision blurred and his ears rung, but just before he lost consciousness, Dean finally heard the deep voice clearly:

“It’s okay – you are saved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to update once a week for sure, hopefully twice, if I can keep my momentum going with writing. In other words, Sundays for sure, maybe Wednesdays.  
> Thank you for reading!


	2. My Fathers Knew of Wind and Tide, and My Blood is Maritime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! This chapter is largely lore/backstory/world-building/info-dumping, so sorry about that. Unless that's your thing, in which case, you're welcome!
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Fisherman's Wharf" by Stan Rogers

Mid-morning sunlight streamed in through the open windows, catching on the flecks of dust in the air. Distantly, the ebb and flow of the ocean could be heard crashing against the shore. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains, their gauzy white folds semi-translucent in the sun. The light shone on Sam’s sleeping form. He scrunched his nose, fighting to stay asleep just for a few moments longer. He turned over onto his side, burying his face into the pillow and settling heavily back into bed.

After a few minutes of shuffling around, trying to get comfortable and pretending to still be asleep, he eventually just gave up. Sam rolled back over onto his back, blearily staring up at the ceiling. He absently brought one hand up to scratch at his bare chest, the other hanging off the side of the bed. He felt something cold and wet nudge his dangling hand. He smirked faintly, playfully pulling his hand away. The nose that had been sniffing his hand switched to a long tongue, which continued to pester him until he gave in.

“Alright, Bones, I’m up,” Sam chuckled. He stretched and sat up, tilting his head from side to side to work the kinks out. He heard a huff and the clacking of Bones’ claws on the tile as the golden retriever disappeared into the kitchen. As Sam more fully woke, he realized he was alone in bed. He turned to check the clock.

“10:30. I keep sleeping later and later,” he muttered to himself. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to avoid thinking about exactly why he found it so hard to get out of bed in the morning. He sighed deeply, sitting still for a moment before swinging his legs up and out of bed. He dressed slowly, lost in thought.

Sam still marveled at the house sometimes; it was only a single floor and a storm basement, not even ten rooms, but it was more than he had ever owned through his entire life combined. When he was a baby, his parents had gone out on his father’s boat for a weekend. What was supposed to be a romantic anniversary ended up a horrible tragedy when his mother was killed by some kind of sea monster. John Winchester was no stranger to the folklore of what lurks beneath the waves, having served in the U.S. Navy for several years, before becoming a fisher by trade. He hadn’t ever expected any of the stories to be true, and Sam suspected that was the moment that John became obsessed.

Sam had heard stories, usually shared around the taverns when everyone was too deep in their bottles to watch their words, of people who called themselves hunters, who dedicated their lives to finding and killing monsters. Everything from werewolves to vampires to ghosts and everything in between. There was an entire network of them throughout the United States and Canada. The Winchesters were part of a specialist subset of hunters, those who travelled along the coasts and rivers, hunting for all manner of aquatic creatures. They were often referred to as sea hunters, though they usually called themselves fishermen around unfamiliar company.

Sam tied his hair up in its usual ponytail, staring into his reflection in the mirror without really looking.

John had thrown himself into hunting with reckless abandon – with a little too much emphasis on _reckless_ , in Sam’s humble opinion. For his whole life, his father had travelled up and down the east coast in his boat, the _Impala of the Sea_ , a 1967 Chris-Craft cabin cruiser. That boat had seen their family through so many rough waters, both literal and metaphorical. Somehow, the metaphorical waters always seemed the hardest to get through.

Sam was 22 when he finally told his father that he’d had enough of the ocean, and that he was planning on going to college. The fight they had had been ugly, insults and accusations thrown around by both parties. In the end, Sam had walked off the boat and moved into a tiny dorm in Halifax to study Environmental Law. He had only ended up getting through two years of school before he dropped out – partially because the combination of tuition and rent was too high for him to manage, but also partially because he had realized that he hadn’t necessarily wanted to go to college specifically, but that he needed to get away from the claustrophobic environment of always being around his father and brother.

Sam jerked out of his reverie and realized that he had zoned out in the hallway just outside his room. He refocused on where he had been staring at the guest bedroom.

It was shut tight, as it had been for the past four months.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He dragged in a rough breath, let it out slowly from his nose, and released the tense grip he had on the bedroom doorframe. He walked softly down the hall into the kitchen. Bones was sitting in front of his bowl, staring up at Sam with piteous eyes and whining.

“Hey, buddy. Aw, did Gabe forget to feed you?” Sam grabbed the bag of kibble from a high cupboard and poured out a bowl, which Bones fell upon with gusto. Sam chuckled, before turning back to the counter to start the coffee. He rummaged around in the fridge while it brewed, hoping Gabe had made enough breakfast for there to be leftovers.

His thoughts wandered again as he prepared and ate brunch. When he dropped out of college, Sam moved out of Halifax to the town his mother grew up in. Halfway between Halifax and Lincolnville, Edlund’s Cove was a sleepy little seaside town, but the quiet and the closeness of the community were exactly what Sam was looking for. Gabe had all but immediately offered him room and board when he got there, and Sam would have been more taken aback by that unexpected kindness if he hadn’t been similarly bombarded by well wishes and handouts from pretty much everyone he met in town.

One week later, the day after his birthday, he got the call from Dean that their father had died.

It had been on a hunt, as all of them had always expected. Sam had harboured too much bitterness towards John at that point in time to want to attend a service for him, so he stayed where he was and got a job at the Harvelles’ tavern for a few shifts a week. He buried himself in work for a while, and from what he knew of his brother, Dean did too. In the couple of months following John’s death, Sam entered and later exited the worst romantic relationship of his life. Ruby wasn’t a bad person, by any means, but Sam had been in a terrible headspace at the time, and every moment they had spent together was an act of self-destruction on his part.

Sam rubbed his thumb slowly over his coffee mug, a gentle smile easing onto his face. Gabe had been the one to help him after ending that relationship. He was always ready with a witty quip, a shoulder to lean on, or good food for eating your feelings, depending on what Sam needed most on any given day. When Thanksgiving rolled around in October, the two of them spent it with each other, both of them separated from their families. It was that night that they ended up discovering their feelings for each other, and Sam moved out of the guest bedroom and into Gabe’s.

Over the next year, Sam slowly worked up the resolve to get back into hunting. Dean was still travelling up and down the coast, working hunts whenever he came across them. He met a new friend while working a job just outside of New Orleans, who ended up joining the crew. Sam would always be grateful for Benny being there for Dean through that year when he couldn’t be. When they finally met, Dean expressed the same sentiment to Gabe.

(Of course, two minutes later Dean actually got to know Gabe and regretted ever talking to him in the first place, but the sentiment was appreciated.)

Shortly before his and Gabe’s one-year anniversary, Sam started hunting again, joining his brother and Benny on John’s old boat. They’d patrol along the east coast of Canada and the U.S., usually getting back to Edlund’s Cove every couple of months, provided no hunts took too long to handle. The three of them had been hunting together for a little over a year and a half before the storm.

It was worse than when John died. Then, at least Sam didn’t have a good relationship with him in the first place. Then, he was far enough removed, both emotionally and geographically, that he could at least pretend to deal with it.

With Dean’s death, Sam had been doing his best to avoid everyone as much as possible. That had worked out for a while, but he knew that monsters and spirits would continue to attack and kill innocent people, and the best way to honour Dean’s memory would be to carry on the family business.

Setting that sentiment aside, he and Benny hadn’t been able to go hunting anyways, as _Impala of the Sea_ had been wrecked in the storm. It was fitting that ship would go down with her captain, but it did leave the rest of the crew without the means to continue their work. Today, their new boat was supposed to be arriving in the harbour, one owner from new and all but being given away for free. Benny had also arranged a meeting for this afternoon with two new hunters to join the crew. It was time to get back in the saddle, whether Sam wanted to or not.

Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. It was going to strange and uncomfortable, having Benny as their captain instead of Dean, but if nothing else, he was taking solace in the fact that Benny was just as uncomfortable about it as he was. He stood from the table, carrying his dishes to the sink.

A loud chirpy ringtone pierced through the silent house like a knife. Sam started and spun around. He padded over to where his cellphone sat in the living room and quickly checked the caller ID. His eyebrows shot up as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Hey Jody.”

“ _Hey, Sam. How’s things?”_ she asked in a sing-song-y lilt. Sam smiled faintly in spite of himself – leave it up to Jody Mills to help you feel better without even trying.

“Not too bad.” He heard Jody hum in response. He bit his lip, debating whether he wanted to be the one to bring it up, or wait for her to do it.

To hell with it; apparently, today was a day for ripping off band-aids. “Listen, Jody, you know I love you,” Sam said, apologetically, “and I always enjoy getting to hang out, but I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call.”

“ _Yeah, you could say that.”_ Jody sighed heavily into the phone. “ _You need to come down to the station as soon as you can. Sam…”_

Sam felt himself tense at her tone of voice.

“ _...it’s your brother.”_

* * *

Captain Jody Mills of the Canadian Coast Guard had seen her fair share of bizarre happenings and strange things washed up in the tide. She met Sam right away when he moved to town – the town was too small, and Sam too big, for her to not have – but she didn’t find out about the truth of what lurks under the waves until her husband had been taken and killed by a kelpie. Sam had been there to stop it, with her assistance, and afterwards he started teaching her all about the monsters and spirits of the ocean. Whenever he and Dean stopped back in town after their patrols, they’d seek her out and continue her education.

She knew of creatures that could hide their true nature, whether it be through shapeshifting, or through making themselves seem gentle and beautiful in order to lure victims closer. She knew of lonesome spirits whose songs would make any who heard it try to drown themselves, and she knew of magic that could grant an individual the ability to breathe and walk underwater.

She had no explanation for how Dean Winchester was currently alive and well inside the Coast Guard station.

The station itself was more of a shed than anything. Barely having enough space for three rooms and a front desk, it was half storage locker and half rudimentary health clinic. Jody had ducked outside to wait for Sam – and to put some space between her and Dean to gather her thoughts.

She leaned against the wall of the station, the September breeze ruffling her short hair. She looked out to the sea and watched the station’s lone lifeboat, _CCGS St. Mary’s Bay,_ bob gently as the waves licked against its side.

After a few minutes staring out on the ocean, she heard footsteps crunching on the gravel parking lot. She turned to see Sam stalking towards her like a man on a mission.

“You made good time getting here,” she called. His eyes flicked up to hers, heavy and hard and broken. He shook his head and huffed an utterly humourless laugh.

“Jody, I swear, if this some kind of, of sick joke, or someone’s idea of a prank –”

She intercepted him before he reached the door, putting her hands up to push him back by the shoulders.

“You really think I’d call you down here if I wasn’t sure?” She watched his expression waver, and brought one hand up to cup his cheek. “Listen Sam, I _know_ you, I _know_ your brother. I’ve spent countless hours with the both of you. It was my boat and my crew that was out there for two weeks searching for him.”

Sam nodded his head against her palm. “I know, Jody,” he whispered, voice ragged.

“I did all the tests – the normal stuff and the bizarre ones. If it isn’t him, then it’s something that no one’s ever seen before. Personally? I’m inclined to believe he’s the real deal.”

Sam searched her face, looking for any signs of uncertainty or deceit. After a long moment, he sighed, the last of the tension finally draining from his frame. Jody raised her eyebrows at him, asking silently if he was okay. He huffed and nodded, his expression a little chagrined. Jody clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, I’d love to stick around, but you two probably don’t want me snooping in your drama – and I’ve got a hot date later, so I’m gonna run.” Jody started off down the drive, heading back to her truck.

Sam chuckled. “Say hi to Donna for me,” he called over his shoulder.

“Will do. You boys take care of yourselves.” With that, Sam heard the door to Jody’s truck slam shut, quickly followed by the rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel under tires. He stared at the door to the station for a moment, then shut his eyes and took a long, slow breath in and out.

Sam pushed open the door and stepped into the tiny Coast Guard station. It was silent, with no one manning the reception desk and the doors and lockers on the equipment side of the station closed and locked tight. Sam turned to his right toward the clinic side of the station; there, he saw light spilling out from the half-open door. He strode toward it and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Sitting there on the room’s single tiny, crappy cot was Dean. He was staring out the window, but started when Sam pushed the door open. He grinned up at his younger brother.

“Hey Sammy. Didja miss m-” His words were cut off with an _oomph_ as Sam hauled him up off the bed and crushed him in a tight hug. He tucked his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck, like he used to when they were still kids and he had a nightmare. His arms trembled where they wrapped around his brother, and he swayed the two of them slightly from side to side. After a moment, Dean’s arms came up to hug him in return. He heard Dean murmur, in the same tone of voice he always used to calm Sam down.

“Hey, Sammy, it’s okay. I’m here, shhh. I’m here.” It was a long moment before they separated; Sam scrubbed at his eyes and chuckled. Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, tipping his chin down and looking up at Sam from under his brows. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Sam took a moment to just take in the fact that Dean was alive and whole.

Then he punched him.

Just in the arm, and certainly not at his full strength, but Dean stumbled back all the same. He clutched at his arm and shot a betrayed look at Sam.

“What the hell, man?!”

“What the hell? You were dead, Dean! You were swept off the ship, and they searched for you for _weeks_. It’s been four months, I thought you were gone!” Sam glared at his brother, watching in grim satisfaction as his expression turned sheepish. His anger melted into concern, and he searched Dean’s eyes. “You are…you, right?”

Dean held up his left arm. A white bandage was wrapped snuggly around his forearm. “Jody did all the tests; I’m me.”

“I’m so fucking glad you’re back.”

Dean chuckled. “Glad to be back.” He clapped his hands together. “So! Turns out, almost dying takes a lot out of you, and I’m starving.”

Sam shot Dean his most unimpressed look. “Of course you are.” Just then, his phone chirped with a new message. He quickly took a look. “Well, you’re in luck, because I need to head to the Shack anyways.”

“What for?”

“Benny set up a meeting with a couple of new hunters for the crew.” At Dean’s scoff, Sam shot him another glare. “It’s pretty hard to run a proper crew with only the two of us, and you were _dead,”_ Dean shifted uncomfortably, apparently admonished, “so we needed to bring in some help.” Sam shot a reply off to Benny, letting him know about the new development. “There’s no reason they couldn’t still join us, even now that you’re here.”

The two brothers strode out from the station, blinking in the midday sun. They turned right, heading down the lane in silence. As they reached the door of Gabe’s restaurant, Dean spoke up again.

“These new hunters. Anyone I’d know?”

Sam smirked at him. “I think you’ll approve,” he said cryptically, and he pushed open the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edlund's Cove isn't a real town - the location I put it is where Port Dufferin is in real life, but since I've never been to Nova Scotia, I didn't want to write about a real place and get it completely wrong. (It also lets me make a meta joke that I wouldn't be able to otherwise).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Take a guess in the comments as to who you think will be joining the crew ;)


	3. Make Free In The Harbour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! There were some good guesses for the new crewmembers! A couple of people got one right, but no one guessed the other person.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Free in the Harbour" by Stan Rogers.

Dean’s mouth started watering the moment he entered the Crab Shack. The smell of all kinds of grilling and frying seafood wafted out from the kitchen. Dean wasn’t entirely sure what happened to him over the past four months, but he knew he hadn’t eaten in that time. He was more than ready to rectify that terrible tragedy.

The lunch rush filled the restaurant with chatter and laughter. From what Dean had heard, Edlund’s Cove hadn’t had an actual restaurant in it before, due to its meager population. Gabriel Pratt had, apparently, taken that as a personal offence, claiming that no town could call itself a port town without a proper seafood restaurant. He purchased the harbourfront property himself and converted the former failed tavern into a rustic eatery.

Eight years later, Gabe’s Crab Shack was among the most popular venues in Edlund’s Cove, second only to The Drunken Sailor, the Harvelles’ tavern. That popularity was certainly earned; as annoying as Gabe was, he was also a damn good chef. Dean had always been one to prefer red meat, but every time they stopped back in the cove, he found himself coming to the Shack instead of getting hamburgers and steak when he got groceries.

He even got Benny’s seal of approval, which Dean knew first-hand was not given lightly.

As he and Sam stepped into the restaurant, Dean was called to by a number of the patrons. Most of them were fishermen and other dockworkers, but just about every possible demographic in town was represented.

“-said you were alive, but I didn’t believe it-”

“You crazy son of a bitch, how’d you manage-”

“We’re so glad you’re okay-”

Apparently, word had gotten out he was back; that was the only real downside to a town as small as this – there was absolutely no anonymity. Then again, it was also an upside, with how tight-knit and welcoming the community was. It was like a massive extended family.

The brothers approached a booth about halfway along the wall. Even with his back to the door, Dean could easily pick out Benny; he still wore the same white shirt and suspenders he usually did, the black newsboy cap on his head as much a giveaway as his height and build. As Dean walked up behind him, he could see Benny’s ever-present black fur coat in a bundle on the seat beside him. Dean smirked.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to wear your hat at the table?”

Benny turned in his seat, throwing one arm over the back of the booth as he looked up at Dean. A lazy grin slowly formed on his face.

“Well hell, brother – thought you were gone for good.” He eased himself up out of the booth and pulled Dean into a big bear hug. If Sam’s hug earlier was bone-crushing, then Benny was trying to squeeze the soul right out of him, like you’d squeeze the last dregs out of a tube of toothpaste. Dean clung to him for a few seconds, soaking up his comfort and relief and warmth, before deciding that the hug had gone on long enough. He clapped Benny on the shoulder and pulled back, feeling him do the same.

While they were occupied, Sam had slid into the booth; he was sitting with Benny’s coat bundled on his lap, quietly greeting the other occupants of the booth. Dean looked over at them. He wanted to see for himself exactly who Sam and Benny had found to join their crew. He stared at the pair of them for a second, before casting a sidelong glance at Sam.

“Hey Sammy, y’know what you were saying about my approval?”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Dean shook his head sadly, his expression one of exaggerated regret. “I dunno, man. I don’t think they’re up for it.” He turned his head to face Sam more directly. “Seriously, this is the best you could do?”

“Hey, fuck you, dude!” The words were angry, but the tone was filled with laughter as none other than Charlie Bradbury and Adam Milligan grinned back at Dean as he slid into his seat across the booth from them.

Charlie had been attending Dalhousie University at the same time as Sam, a comp-sci major to his pre-law. The two of them had shared a couple of elective classes and had bonded quickly through their similarly nerdy dispositions. Charlie had dropped out halfway through her third year, claiming that academic life was only holding her back from more adventurous pursuits. They hadn’t really expected her to be referring to hacktivism when she said that, but hey – to each their own. Charlie had gotten a rude awakening to the world of sea hunters a little under a year ago when her hacktivism caught the attention of a sea witch masquerading as an antiquities dealer with incredibly shady business practices. She and Sam were able to kill the witch, and from then on Charlie threw herself into learning everything she could about sea monsters and hunting.

Even though she had met Sam first, she and Dean had clicked almost immediately upon meeting. Dean often called her the little sister he never wanted, but the truth was he loved every chance he had to hang out with her. Initially, Sam had been annoyed by the fact that one of his closest friends ended up becoming closer to Dean than him.

“What she said,” said Adam, jerking his head towards Charlie. She laughed and bumped their shoulders together.

Dean had met Adam for the first time about two and a half years ago, almost exactly a year after John died. He had gotten a call on John’s old cellphone from someone claiming to be his son. Adam’s mother had been killed by a vengeful rusalka, who had been skulking around their town years back when John and Adam’s mother first met. Apparently, John hadn’t done a good enough job killing her, and she took her revenge out on the only surviving person that had helped hunt her down the first time. Dean and Benny took her out – for good this time – and invited Adam to join them.

Dean knew how important family was, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bitter towards his father for never telling him and Sam about Adam. He wanted to do whatever he could to make it up to him and be there for his new baby brother. Adam, however, was thoroughly freaked out by everything that had happened, and mostly just wanted to get away from his old hometown. He stayed on the boat with Benny and Dean for about a week, just long enough for them to take him up the coast and drop him off with his grandparents in Maryland. The three of them exchanged contact information, and Dean passed along Sam’s number, knowing that his two little brothers would want to get to know each other.

And was he ever right about that; even though they had only ever interacted through Skype, they still managed to team up against Dean. Every conversation that Dean overheard between them was spent making fun of him and planning pranks against him. Something about ending the tyrannical regime of the oldest sibling, or whatever.

The five of them chattered for a while, marveling at having all of them here in one place for once. Adam and Charlie both told Dean off for getting himself killed, which he scoffed at, but was secretly touched by how much they cared.

Dean was initially wary at Sam and Benny’s choice to bring these two in; just because they were family didn’t mean they’d be a good fit. After hearing all four of them explain the thought process behind it, though, he was seriously impressed. Since Charlie had continued her training, she had actually gone and done a couple of easy hunts on her own. She clearly had the technical know-how, as well as the determination for it. She would be taking over from Sam as Dean’s right hand for the more violent hunts. Sam, in turn, would be taking point on dives, as he usually did, but would also start working in his aptitude for magic.

Adam made even more sense. He had been studying medicine at university, and was the only person out of the five of them to have either lifeguard or first aid certification. (Sure, Dean and Sam and Benny had all done some field medicine before, but it hardly counted in the face of proper training). And, as he so delicately put it, they kept putting themselves into life-threatening situations, so it would pay to have him on hand as the ship’s doctor. He was planning on bringing his books and laptop with him and continuing to take classes online as much as possible. Dean felt a surge of pride at that; he himself had dropped out of high school, and Sam and Charlie had both dropped out of college, but at least one member of their weird little family was gonna get their diploma.

The details of the crew assignments out of the way, the conversation turned to filling everyone in on what had happened since they last saw each other. They were in the middle of Charlie telling a story about her latest cyber Robin Hood endeavor when their waitress came up to the table.

“Is everybody ready to order?” Dean looked up at the familiar lazy drawl.

“And here I thought Gabe was a responsible business owner; guess I was wrong, since apparently he’s keeping garbage lying around.” He shot a sardonic smile at Ruby. She narrowed her dark eyes right back at him in a truly unimpressed glower.

“Wow, Dean, just as charming as ever. Even being dead for months can’t put a dent in your stunning personality.” She shifted her gaze over to Sam and raised her eyebrows. “I still don’t know how you managed to deal with him for your entire life.”

Dean saw Sam shift awkwardly out of the corner of his eye and felt his shoulders tense. Ruby could shit-talk him all she wanted, but he’d be damned if he let this bitch fuck with Sam ever again. He turned in his seat to directly face her, ignoring Sam’s hissed “It’s fine, Dean, just leave it.” Dean was just opening his mouth to tell her exactly where she could stick her attitude and in what way –

“Hey, Ruby, table 2 needs refills on drinks and table 8 wants to order dessert.” Gabe slung his arm around her shoulders. She turned her unimpressed look on him, but he just leveled her with a look of his own, silently pleading with her. After a moment’s stare-down, she sighed and rolled her eyes, tossing her inky dark hair over her shoulder and stalking off to help some other diners.

Gabe turned back to the booth. “Sorry about that. Sometimes she just doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.” He turned to Dean. “Deano! Heard you were back in business.”

“Yeah, you and the whole town. Didn’t take Jody for a gossip.”

Gabe chuckled. “Nah, not Jody; Walt and Roy – they were the ones that found you, washed up on the beach. Nearly scared the shit out of them when they went out to check the traps this morning and they got your sorry ass instead.” Dean cursed under his breath. Of course those two assholes felt the need to blab about him to everyone in town.

Gabe cast a glance around the table and clapped his hands together. “So! What can I get you fine folks today?”

* * *

Two hours later, the group filtered out of the Crab Shack and out onto the harbour. Benny and Adam meandered down the docks, Benny with his coat slung over his shoulder, going on ahead to “get everything in order”, whatever exactly they meant by that. Sam and Charlie were just outside the door to the restaurant, chatting easily. Dean had his hand on the door handle, about to go out and join them, when he felt Gabe’s small but strong hand on his elbow.

“You forgot something.” Dean’s eyes went wide, staring off into the middle distance as he patted himself down, trying to figure out what he left at the table.

Gabe chuckled. “No, no, nothing like that.” He held out a cardboard to-go box, Dean’s name written on it in his signature swirly handwriting. Dean was about to ask what it was when the scent of cherries and sugar and warm pastry hit his nose. Again, Gabe was annoying as all fuck, but _damn_ if he didn’t make the best pie Dean had ever had in his life. He grinned, taking the box from Gabe.

“Awe, you shouldn’t have.” Dean remembered who he was talking to. “No, really, you shouldn’t have. What did you do, did you poison this or something?” He lifted the box up to look underneath it. Maybe Gabe had booby-trapped it. Could you booby-trap a pie? Gabe probably could.

“It’s not poison, it’s a bribe.” Gabe crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. Dean looked away from the pie. Gabe looked more serious than Dean had ever seen him before, his eyes making him seem hundreds of years old.

“…A bribe for what?”

Gabe didn’t look Dean in the eye; his gaze was instead focused somewhere around his shoulder. He sighed heavily. “I love Sam. You know I do, and you know I would do anything for him.”

“I know you would, Gabe, and believe me, I appreciate –”

“But,” Gabe interrupted, his gaze finally lifting to meet Dean’s, “I would rather not have to.” He let out another weary sigh. “I was there for him when John died, and I was there for him when you all-but died.” His expression saddened. “It broke my heart to see him grieve like that. I never want to have to see him go through that again. I know the job you guys do is dangerous, but… if there’s any way for you to minimize the risk, any way to keep yourself alive, do it. If not for me, then for your brother.”

Dean stared for a minute, speechless. He had never heard Gabe so solemn. Dean would never in a million years admit it out loud, but he was so fucking happy that Sammy had someone just as dedicated to him as Dean had been when they were kids. He nodded, not trusting his voice not to break.

Gabe gave a single nod back to him and clapped him on the shoulder, apparently mollified. Dean stepped out of the Crab Shack, and Gabe slipped out behind him. He sauntered up to Sam and swoozed into him, slipping his arm around his waist. His other hand wrapped around Sam’s wrist, where his fingers lazily traced patterns along a green and gold fish scale bracelet.

“You thought you were just gonna leave without a proper goodbye?”

Sam chuckled. “’Course not; I was just waiting for you.” He leaned down and Gabe stretched up, meeting in the middle for a quick kiss. Dean pretended to retch behind them.

Charlie gave him a swift elbow to the ribs. “Shut up, it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, cuz he’s not your brother,” he grumbled, elbowing her back.

“How dare you! I’m an unofficial Winchester, I’ll have you know. He’s as much my brother as he is yours.”

“So you like watching your brother making out? Wow, Charlie, that’s fucked up.”

“Oh, screw you Dean.”

“Are you two done?” The two of them turned to face Sam, who was shooting them a particularly impressive Bitchface Number 27, I’m-right-here-and-can-hear-everything-you’re-saying-about-me. Gabe just snickered into Sam’s shoulder. Sam pressed another kiss to his temple, shoving gently at Gabe’s side.

“You’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll call you when we get somewhere with reliable service.”

Gabe grinned and playfully swatted at Sam’s ponytail. “I’ll hold you to it. Stay safe, you guys!” With a meaningful look Dean’s way, Gabe spun on his heel and disappeared back into the Crab Shack.

Dean, Sam, and Charlie headed off down the docks. Dean tipped his head back, basking in the afternoon sun, enjoying the cool breeze coming in off the ocean. There were seabirds crying out over the water and waves lapping up at the dock posts. Rows of boat bobbed gently where they were moored, their names – poetic and punny alike – painted in swirled fonts on their hulls, proudly displayed to everyone on the docks. Dean had never felt more at home. He stretched his arms up above his head, his loose sleeves pooling at his shoulders.

“Woah, what is that?!”

Dean startled at Charlie’s sudden outburst. Before he could ask her what the hell she was talking about, Sam grabbed his left arm and yanked it straight out in front of him, pushing the sleeve back.

“What the hell, Sammy, get off me!” He fought against Sam’s grip, struggling for a moment before stopping abruptly when he saw what the others had.

“What the…” There, on his left shoulder, was a strange tattoo. It was a rich teal colour, which slightly shimmered in the light. The tattoo was in two parts – one was a ribbon-like swirl wrapping around his upper arm. The other was a broad handprint.

Sam looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t think to mention this?”

Dean shrugged helplessly. “Didn’t even realize I had it.” He turned his arm back and forth slightly as he walked, watching the shimmery ink catch the light. “I’m sure it’s nothing major.”

Dean decided to ignore Sam’s incredulous look and Charlie’s muttered “yeah, that’s always how that works.”

“A-ny-ways… you’d better have been taking care of my Baby.”

The incredulous look from Sam somehow became even stronger. “Are you serious, Dean?”

Dean looked askance. “Uh, yeah? I swear to god, if you fucked with my boat –”

“We were in a massive storm, the boat went into the rocks. Benny and I were lucky to make it out of there. _Impala_ ’s gone, Dean.”

Dean spun around, stepping in front of Sam as he stared him down. “My boat’s gone?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. He’d just assumed that it had just needed repairs – extensive repairs, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. He hadn’t expected _Impala of the Sea_ , his home since childhood, to be nothing more than a wreck at the bottom of the ocean.

Sam nudged him, forcing him to turn around and keep walking. “Come on, Dean, I know you loved the boat, but it was already, what, 45 years old? We were constantly having to repair it, it was so damn cramped even with just the three of us, the gas mileage was terrible. She served us well, but her time’s up.”

“Oh yeah? Then what the hell are we supposed to use instead.”

In lieu of a response, Sam just pointed just past the boat they were beside. There stood Benny and Adam, talking with a short man with curly brown hair wearing a fuzzy blue bathrobe and slippers. Dean saw Benny pass a handful of papers over to the man, who took a cursory glance at them before handing something off to Benny that Dean couldn’t see from where he stood. Just behind them in the water was a gleaming white boat.

Dean scoffed. “A sailboat? Really Sam?”

Sam gave him Bitchface Number 9, you’re-dumb-and-I’m-smarter-than-you. “It’s a catamaran, actually. A Leopard 40 – 39 foot LOA, 22 foot beam, 4 cabins, 2 heads, 8 plus 2 berths.” Sam shot a sidelong glance at Dean. “It also has two 29 horsepower engines and a top speed of 8.4 knots.”

“You really think we need eight berths?”

“You, me, and Benny are all big guys. We each get a cabin to ourselves, and Charlie and Adam can share the last one. The other two spares can be used for storage. Benny already got everything moved in there between today and yesterday.”

Well. Shit. Maybe a sailboat – _catamaran_ – wasn’t so lame after all.

“Chuck was practically giving it away – I swear, if he asked any less for it, we’d be paying him to take it off his hands. And get this, he repainted the name for us, no extra charge.”

Dean looked down at the loopy dark blue writing on the hull. He chuckled, pulling Sam into a one-armed side hug.

“ _Ramble On_ , huh?”

Sam ducked his head, grinning. “It seemed fitting.”

“Awww, you big softie.” Dean wrapped his other arm around Sam’s front, leaning all of his weight onto his giant little brother. Sam squawked and flailed his arms and legs around for a moment before managing to worm his way out of Dean’s grip.

“I’m gonna go get Adam and Charlie set up below deck – you and Benny need to talk.” Sam practically scampered away into the catamaran. Dean chuckled at his retreating form, looking up to take in the boat more fully. He stepped up onto the deck, slowly walking along it, dragging his hands slowly along the frame of the boat. The white hull gleamed in the sunlight. The outboard deck looked super comfortable, with seating and cushions and – apparently a grill? Dean smirked; it was gonna be a race between him and Benny to see who got to use it first.

Dean stepped up to the helm. Everything gleamed like new, the dials and controls polished to perfection and state of the art. Dean hated to admit it, but _Impala of the Sea_ was pretty old. A boat like this would last for years to come. He placed one hand on the wheel, the polished wood sitting comfortably in his grasp.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Benny stepped into the helm, leaning against the frame.

“She sure is,” Dean murmured, already itching to take her out into the water. He turned to look at Benny. “Question for you.”

“Well, then, I hope I have an answer.”

Dean hesitated for a moment, then pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. “You know what this is?”

Benny leaned forward and studied the tattoo. He tipped his head to the side. “It’s magic, I know that much for sure.”

“Nothing else?”

“All I know is that it’s like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before.” Benny straightened up again, catching Dean’s eye with a meaningful look. “And you know I’ve seen a lot, brother.”

Dean nodded, turning back towards the helm. He’d been afraid of that – between Sam’s aptitude for magic and Benny’s practical experience, there was very little they didn’t know. He didn’t want to show how much their ignorance of the mark concerned him.

Unfortunately, Benny was very good at reading him. “You know how you got this?” he asked, in a tone of voice that was more suited to a disappointed parent asking their child to explain their bad behavior.

Dean shrugged helplessly. “All I know is that I didn’t have it before I went down, and I do now.”

Benny furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment. “Nothin’ else you can remember?”

“All I can remember is…eyes. Big blue eyes.” Dean rubbed his shoulder for a second and winced. “And a fucking horrible pain in my arm, which I assume was this,” he lifted his shoulder for emphasis.

“We’ll figure it out; we always do.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder. “I did come up here for a reason, y’know.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

Benny tipped one corner of his mouth up in a smirk. “While you were gone, Sam and I were figurin’ out what to do with the crew. We argued for a while, but we decided I’d be captain.”

Dean felt his heart sink; he wanted so badly to be behind the helm again, but if Benny wanted captaincy, he wasn’t going to stand in his way. “Sure thing, man, it’s about time you got your shot at it.”

Benny held up a hand. “Now, hold on, let me finish. Sam wasn’t too comfortable about me takin’ your place, and to be honest, I wasn’t either.” At this, Benny fished a ring with two shiny silver keys on it out of his pocket. “I believe these belong to you, captain.”

Dean stared at him for a moment. Slowly, he held out his hand, and Benny dropped the keys into his palm. A slow smile curled across his face.

“You ready to see what this baby can do?”

“I was born ready, brother.”

With that, the ropes mooring the boat to the dock were untied, the key turned in the ignition, and _Ramble On_ eased her way out of the dock and out onto the open water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything listed there is the actual specs for a Leopard 40 catamaran. I was originally going to have the boat be a Sea Ray Sundancer, but I figured they'd like something a little more comfortable and a little less cramped. Maybe sailing around in a catamaran up and down the east coast isn't realistic, but to be fair, driving cross-country across the US of A in a 50ish year old car isn't particularly realistic either - but it's cool.
> 
> There's a couple of stupid little puns in this chapter that aren't exactly puns, and certainly don't make sense just yet, but they made me giggle when I wrote them, so if you want to come back to this chapter later in the fic and try to find them, there's that.
> 
> There's also a reason for Gabriel's last name. Most fics with the angels as humans will either go with Novak, Shurley, or Milton, but I wanted something more specific to him. "Pratt" is an old Anglo-Saxon name, derived from "trick", and was used as a nickname for tricksters and conjurers.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	4. I Was Told We'd Cruise the Seas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter kicked my ass. Yes, it's 5k words. No, I don't know how that happened. Maybe I'll write another chapter this long, but don't count on it.  
> Also, apologies to anyone that likes Meg, but I........don't. Sorry about that.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Barrett's Privateers" by Stan Rogers.

If Charlie had been asked, she would have assumed that the new crew of _Ramble On_ would have taken a lot longer to actually work well together. She had never met Benny or Adam before, Adam hadn’t ever met Sam in person until the restaurant, and Dean had a bad habit of being super particular with who he worked with. Despite all that, they managed to get along pretty well, both in a cohabitation sense, and a professional one.

Their first hunt came only a day after they set out from Edlund’s Cove. Charlie had developed an algorithm to search news stories, blog posts, and police scanners along the east coast for a variety of unexplained or otherwise abnormal circumstances. Nine times out of ten, it ended up leading to monsters and other dangerous creatures, and this time was no exception.

“Six separate cases of disappearing or missing persons within the past two months in St. George, New Brunswick. All of them were last seen while on or near the beach, and the last two instances had people living nearby saying they heard screaming from the water.”

Dean leaned over her shoulder. He carefully studied everything her algorithm had picked up from the area. “Yep, sounds like our kinda thing, all right.” He straightened up and shot her a grin. “You ready for your first hunt as part of the crew?”

She smirked right back at him, a thrill of excitement running through her. “Bring it on.”

Of course, she forgot that the majority of any hunt was actually pretty tame. She and Dean set off just after they arrived in St. George, dressed in pressed suits and with fake CSIS badges in their pockets. They spent the next several hours questioning the families and friends of the victims. Most of them didn’t have any useful information, and one woman was completely in denial that anything had happened to her daughter, instead convinced that she had just up and left to go to university. It took every ounce of Charlie’s willpower not to leap over her stupid driftwood coffee table and throttle her for being so negligent.

They did manage to get some useful information, however; a couple of people they interviewed mentioned that the disappearances had started just after a strange woman had moved to town, and one young man told them that his best friend had been bragging to him about getting a date with said woman – a romantic walk along the beach at night.

“Meg Masters, moved to town about two months ago. First victim went missing not even a week later.” Charlie showed Dean a picture of Meg from her Instagram. “Hasn’t really been concerned with keeping a low profile, if it is her.” Dean took a quick look at the picture before pulling his own phone out. Charlie watched curiously as he spent the next few minutes typing away on it.

Finally, he slipped it back in his pocket. “Well,” he said, placidly, “we’ll check out the beach tonight, see if we can find her, and if not, then I’ve got a plan lined up.”

After a long, cold, uneventful night hunkered down underneath the pier, Charlie was feeling aches where she didn’t know she could ache and hungry like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She and Dean retreated to the central part of town. They sat out on a park bench, enjoying some breakfast sandwiches and double-doubles from Timmies. Charlie nudged Dean with her elbow.

“So, last night was a bust,” she said around her sandwich. Dean hummed in agreement. “But you said you’ve got a plan.” She swallowed her bite and turned to Dean. “I assume you know what she is?”

Dean nodded as he polished off his breakfast. “99% certain. There’s a bunch of water monsters that can shapeshift, but most have specific forms that they can shift into. Most of them only change between different animals, or into men specifically.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “She _could_ be a sea witch, but they’re just humans that practice magic. And most monsters that typically appear female can’t blend in with normal people. Nah, ‘m pretty sure she’s a shapeshifter of some kind.” He pointed at Charlie. “Pop quiz – what kind of shifter could she be?”

_Aw, shit_. Charlie wracked her brain, trying to remember all of the shapeshifting water monsters she’d heard of. Encantado, nøkk, akh’lut – none of those could appear female. A kelpie, maybe? But there was no seaweed in her hair in the photos she posted. She shook her head, dumbfounded. “I’m stumped.” She felt stupid. She knew she was forgetting something obvious, but she just couldn’t think of what it was.

Dean gently nudged her shoulder. “There’s only two things that I know of that she could be. One is a selkie,” He paused, letting Charlie take in what he was teaching her. “which is pretty unlikely, considering that at their absolute worst they’re like, slightly rude.”

“What’s the other option?”

Dean wound his arm back and lobbed his empty coffee cup into the garbage can nearby. “A cecaelia.” The two of them got up and started walking back towards the docks.

Charlie smacked herself in the forehead. “Oh, duh! Octopus mermaids, right?”

“Basically. They don’t usually come up to shore, but they can if they’re forced out of their colonies.”

Charlie furrowed her brow as she remembered something she had read about cecaeliae. “I didn’t think they ate humans.”

“They don’t.”

“So then why kill all those people?”

Dean gave her a sardonic look out of the corner of his eye. “Because cecaeliae are violent, fucked up sons o’ bitches. They like killing people ‘cause they think it’s fun.”

Charlie shuddered. “Alright, I’m in favour of taking her down.” The two of them walked in silence for a minute or two before Charlie spoke up again. “So, what exactly is your brilliant plan, oh captain my captain?”

Dean arched his eyebrows at her. “Dead Poet’s Society? Really?”

Charlie just laughed. “Hey, you recognized it!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Anyways, the plan is, I’ve set up a date with Miss Masters. We’ll be meeting down at the dock this evening.”

“Okay, so what do I do?”

“You’re gonna be staked out there, ready to kill the bitch.”

“Why wouldn’t you just do it?”

“Because,” Dean turned to stand in front of her, “I’ll be keeping her distracted. If she sees me go for a weapon, all bets are off. Cecaeliae are wicked fast, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to take her out without her noticing me.”

…Which is how Charlie ended up crouching behind a hot dog stand at the end of the pier, in the middle of the night which, in September in Canada, wasn’t exactly comfortable. She heard footfalls against the wooden dock and perked up, drawing her knife. She peeked around the corner of the hot dog stand.

Dean and Meg were standing about a foot away from the end of the dock. Meg was talking a low voice, too quiet for Charlie to hear. She watched as Meg stepped up, tossing her dark curly hair over her shoulder, oozing into Dean’s personal space and running a hand slowly up his arm. Charlie pretended to gag. She shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable and getting ready to spring into action.

Suddenly, Meg lashed out at Dean; she swiftly jabbed her fist into his stomach, forcing him to double over, then wrapping her arms around his head and jamming his face into her knee. Dean swore loudly and stumbled back. Charlie took the distraction to jump out from her hiding spot and stab.

Except she was a little _too_ enthusiastic about it, as she less “stabbed” Meg, and more “tackled her off the edge of the pier”. As the two of them plunged into the frigid water, Charlie felt Meg’s body shift and squirm like there was something underneath her skin. She forced herself to hold on despite every instinct in her telling her to get the fuck away. She watched as the jeans Meg had been wearing ripped and shredded away from her body, and a pile of dark bruise-purple tentacles spilled into the water.

Two of the tentacles wrapped around her wrists, and another snaked up to grab her neck. She thrashed against the surprisingly strong grip. Meg cocked her head, her expression one of faux sympathy.

“Take it easy, girlie,” she murmured, her voice silky smooth yet icy cold. “If you keep squirming, this’ll hurt a lot more.” A shot rang out in the dark, followed quickly by another. The tentacles holding Charlie writhed and recoiled, dropping her back into the water. She scrambled back to her feet and grabbed her knife as Meg hissed over her now-bleeding shoulder at Dean. She sprang towards him, her tentacles whipping out and reaching around his arms.

That was all the opening Charlie needed, as she charged towards Meg’s back and plunged her knife between her shoulder blades. Meg twitched and shuddered, a horrible gurgling coming from her throat, and a moment later collapsed into the surf. Charlie panted roughly, her throat still sore from where the tentacle wrapped around it. She stumbled over Meg’s fallen body to where Dean had fallen and extended a hand for him.

Charlie hauled Dean up with an * _oof*_ ; he clapped her on the shoulder with a grin. “Well that was fun.” She scoffed at him and jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

The two of them clambered back onto the pier where they stashed their duffels, and with a quick text to the rest of the crew, got the body bundled up in a couple of tarps. After they set out to sea again the next day, they dumped it over the side of the boat, trusting the numerous predators of the sea to take care of it.

Charlie didn't notice the dark shape following them in the water.

* * *

A little under a week later they found their next hunt. They had stopped for fuel – both the boat and human varieties – in Manteo, North Carolina. Charlie and Sam were just returning from a grocery run; Charlie’s arms were laden down with food and drink, and Sam’s with ammunition and spell ingredients. They got back to the boat just as Dean was finishing up a conversation with the guy working the refueling station on the marina.

“It’s the damndest thing, I’ll tell you what. Never had any issue before, but as of a couple days ago, all the fishers end up getting turned around and heading back to port once they get out there. All a’them said they heard whispers out there on the water.”

“Well, that is strange.” Dean gave Charlie and Sam a nod as they tromped past him onto _Ramble On_. “Where exactly did you say this was happening again?”

Charlie bumped her hip against Sam’s as they got to work putting supplies away. “Sounds like our kinda thing, doesn’t it?”

Sam chuckled. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah I am! I’m sailing on the ocean blue, killing monsters and saving people. It’s an adventure! All we need is treasure and some busty tavern wenches and we’d have a regular pirate ship.”

She watched as Sam rolled his eyes, still grinning.

“Pretty sure you’d need a bit more pillaging and ship-to-ship combat for that,” Adam piped up from where he was sprawled out on the couch. Charlie threw a bag of oranges at him. They bounced off his chest and fell onto the couch.

“If you can sit around and sass us, you can get over here and help put stuff away,” she scolded. Sam’s laugh was muffled by the cabinet he was reaching into, but she got Adam’s raspberry in full force as he walked up to her. She reached out and gave him a noogie in retaliation.

The two of them were in the middle of what would surely have been an epic slap fight when Dean charged back onto the boat.

“Whoever’s closest to a laptop, look up any local shipwrecks.”

Adam took the opportunity to duck away from Charlie and dart back over to the couch, grabbing his laptop from the table as he went. He got to work searching as Dean clapped him on the shoulder and turned to head up to the helm.

“Pretty sure we’ve got something here. 35 degrees 58 minutes north, 75 degrees 1 minute west.”

“Got it,” Charlie called, ducking down into her and Adam’s cabin to grab her own laptop and start searching for any known documentation at those coordinates. She felt the boat’s engine thrum to life as they pulled out of the harbour. A couple of minutes later she strode back into the main deck.

“Yep, there’s definitely something out there. Shipwreck, a few hundred years old,” she scrolled further down the report she had found, “almost 160 feet long. It’s mostly buried in the sand, but there was an official excavation back in 2005.”

“Talaria!” Adam exclaimed from over on the couch.

“Gesundheit,” said Sam. Adam leveled him with a bitch glare to rival Sam’s own.

“No, _Talaria_ ; it’s the name of the ship. It was a galleon in the Spanish treasure fleet. According to archival documents, it was wrecked in 1750, along with several other ships in the fleet.”

Sam disappeared down the steps, and a sharp knocking told Charlie that he was waking Benny up to come help. Adam looked up at Charlie from his laptop screen. “You think we can just roll up and head on in there?”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s open to the public – hell, the Manteo tourism website even advertises it as a diving attraction for tourists.” Sam strode back up the steps, Benny in tow, and headed out to the outer deck. Charlie and Adam followed them out, and Adam climbed up to the helm to pass along what they found to Dean.

Two hours later Dean killed the engine and _Ramble On_ slowed to a stop on the ocean. Sam pulled a piece of teal oil pastel out of one of the outdoor storage compartments. Charlie perked up when she saw it; it was one thing to know that one of your best friends practiced magic, and another entirely to see it in action.

She watched as Sam drew a sigil on one of the gunwales, equal parts loopy and elegant, and angular and rigid. As soon as he finished drawing, the sigil glowed a bright turquoise for a moment, before fading to its usual colour. He put the pastel away and caught Charlie’s eye.

“It’s an anchoring spell – lets us bring the boat to a complete stop anywhere, and we don’t need a physical anchor to take up storage space or load capacity, and there’s never the risk of not having a long enough chain or for it to get damaged in any way.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “That’s pretty nifty.” She peered over the edge of the boat, but the water was deep enough to not be able to see anything below the surface. “What’re you thinking’s down there? Shipwreck ghosts?”

Sam had pulled off his shirt and was reaching for the button on his shorts, revealing a shorty wetsuit underneath. “Nah, probably not.” He paused, considering. “Well, actually, there probably is; pretty much every death at sea is violent, and this ship must’ve had a huge crew.” He finished shucking his shorts and reached into another storage compartment for pairs of flippers and diving gloves. “But as far as I know, no ghost can affect people like that.”

Charlie crossed her arms and leaned back against the gunwale, watching as Sam strapped on a couple of dive knives. “So what do you think it is?”

“Old ships tend to have all kinds of old treasures and artifacts – they don’t have to be treasure in the traditional sense, just something important. An old merchant ship like this one? Almost guaranteed to be carrying at least a couple of cursed objects.” As if on cue, Dean walked up to the two of them carrying several curse-boxes.

“We’ve got six more in storage if we need them, and we can make hex bags to at least nullify anything bigger until someone else can get out here to deal with them. You good?”

Sam nodded as he heaved an oxygen tank onto his back. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He slipped his dive mask on and stretched his arms out, letting Dean give him a final once-over. Once he finished, Sam sat up on the edge of the gunwale and tipped backwards into the ocean.

“He’s going down alone?”

“Nah,” Dean shook his head, “Benny went down a minute or two ago to scope things out.”

Over the next couple of hours, Charlie watched as Sam came up several times, arms loaded with various treasures and artifacts. A few were immediately placed in curse-boxes, while the rest were placed into Tupperware containers to be cleaned and sorted later. They’d be able to sell those pieces to museums and private collectors, topping up their funds with whatever the experts were willing to give in return.

There was, however, something about the situation that didn’t sit well with Charlie. After the third time that Sam came up, deposited his loot, and went back down, she decided to broach the topic.

“Okay, seriously, is Benny okay? Because he still hasn’t come up, and I know that oxygen tanks can store several hours of air in them, but the fact that we haven’t seen him in like, two hours has me worried.”

She had expected a lot of possible responses to her question; what she certainly _didn’t_ expect was Dean swearing and muttering under his breath. That…didn’t do a lot to assuage her concerns. “Dean?”

Dean sighed heavily, rubbing a hand roughly down his face. “God damnit… he was supposed to tell you…”

Well, that wasn’t worrying at all. “Tell me what?”

Dean sighed again, gentler this time. He studied Charlie’s face carefully for a long moment. Whatever it was he was looking for, he must have found it – or not found it, Charlie wasn’t sure.

“Benny… isn’t human.”

Charlie blinked.

And blinked again.

“Not human.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a sea monster.”

Dean winced and sucked in a breath. “More ‘creature’ than ‘monster’. He’s a total softie, you know him.”

Charlie stared at nothing. On the one hand, she supposed it wasn’t particularly surprising. On the other hand…

“Wait, I know he’s known you and Sam for years, but Adam doesn’t know either, right?”

Dean just laughed. “Of course he does, Benny & I saved him from a rusalka, remember? Bitch tried to drag him out to sea. Benny’s the one that got him out of there, I was all but useless.”

“Are you serious?! I’m the last one to know?” Seriously, how the hell was that fair? She was trustworthy! And totally not judgmental – potentially rude sea monster comment notwithstanding.

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s his thing to tell, not mine. He probably thought it would be easier to not tell you and then just unintentionally scare the shit out of you one day without warning when he had to reveal it.”

“Hmph.” Charlie pursed her lips. She wasn’t all _that_ upset about Benny not telling her, she just didn’t like being the only one left out of the loop. She dropped her shoulders, feeling guilty. It wasn’t about her, and if Benny wanted to tell her or not, that was up to him. She and Dean stood in silence for a while, enjoying the cool breeze as they waited for Sam and Benny to finish up.

That night, the five of them splurged on a nice restaurant with the money they had made from the treasure they had pulled up from the wreck.

As they returned to the boat, the clicks and whistles of what Charlie could only assume were dolphins sung them to sleep.

* * *

About a week after the wreck, they docked in St. Augustine, Florida. They had gotten a message from a regular “land hunter”, who was passing along a hunt for their area of expertise. Over the past week or so, three people had drowned while on dry land, going about their lives as usual.

Charlie went to do the usual interviews and investigations, this time with Sam at her side. The two of them spent the afternoon talking with the families of the deceased, followed up by a visit to the morgue.

Unlike the case with Meg, none of the families had any idea of how this could have happened. Not only that, but there was no clear connection between the victims. There were no identifying marks on any of the bodies, other than the typical internal damage caused by a regular drowning. After the questionings had gotten them nowhere, the two of them retreated back to the boat.

Charlie groaned and threw herself backwards against the back of the couch. “This makes no sense! The victims have no shared history, they didn’t even know each other; the drownings were clearly magic, but there’re no traces of magic on the bodies. What could – or would – even do something like this?”

Sam blew his bangs out of his face. “The only thing I can think of would be a sea witch, but the fact that there’s no marks…” He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I’m stumped,” He checked his watch, “and hungry. Let’s get something to eat and take another stab at it later.”

“Ugh, fine,” Charlie groaned, hauling herself up and off the couch. “Alright, fine – but I’m picking this time.”

They returned to the boat a few hours later, leaving the rest of the crew back in town while they got back to work. They walked up the dock to where _Ramble On_ was moored, chatting aimlessly. Charlie looked up and stopped dead.

Standing in front of the boat was a beautiful woman. She looked like she was around Charlie’s age, with long curly brown hair and warm, tanned skin. She turned to face them as they approached.

“Is this your boat?” She asked. Her voice was tight – she sounded afraid, Charlie realized. Beside her, Sam put his hands up in a placating gesture. He ducked his head down, expression concerned and voice gentle in what Charlie liked to call his ‘sympathetic routine.’

“Yeah, it’s ours. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

The woman rushed up to the two of them. She grabbed one of each of their arms. Charlie could feel her hands trembling through the fabric of her jacket.

“Please, you have to believe me, I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to, but he made me. Please, I can feel the magic in this vessel, you can help me.” Her eyes flicked between the two of them, and her voice shook with fear. Charlie reached out and gently grasped her shoulder, trying to convey a sense of calm and control.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll certainly try to help however we can.” She caught the other woman’s eyes, giving her a warm, steadying look. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Gilda.” She took a step back, then a steadying breath. She tipped her head back as she exhaled, and Charlie watched has she ripped some sort of amulet away from her neck. Her form rippled and melted; her skin and hair were made of water, and when she reopened her eyes, the dark orbs were replaced with pearls. “I’m what you’d call an undine.”

Charlie felt her mouth go dry as she gazed at the being before her. Gilda’s watery form rippled, her hair swirling around her head. Despite the severity of the situation, Charlie found herself unable to focus on anything she had just said. “Yeah, you are,” she murmured.

Sam snorted and elbowed her in the ribs. Charlie squeaked in embarrassment, which Sam ignored in favour of addressing Gilda. “You said he made you do it – you mean the drownings?”

Gilda nodded sadly. “His name is Gerry. His family comes from magic. They had believed that they no longer carried the gift, but Gerry was able to cast spells to summon and bind me to his will. I am only able to be here because he believes I am unable to act without his command, but being so far from him causes me pain.”

Charlie’s heart ached at the pain in Gilda’s voice. “Why did he make you kill them?”

“Petty disagreements and imagined slights, from what little I could glean,” Gilda shrugged helplessly. Charlie stepped up to her and took one of her hands between both of hers.

“I promise you, we’ll put a stop to this.”

Gilda’s expression turned to one of deep gratitude and relief. “Thank you – thank you both,” she breathed, turning to catch Sam’s eye again. “The spell he used was Triton’s Binding. Can you break it?”

Sam nodded slowly as he rubbed his jaw, thinking. “I’ve heard of it. It’s complicated, but I should be able to. I’m gonna need some help with it.”

Charlie reluctantly tore her eyes away from Gilda. “Then let’s get started,” she said and, still holding onto Gilda’s hand, led her onto the boat. Sam followed behind the two women.

Once they got onto the boat, Sam sprang into action, pulling spell ingredients and tools out of cupboards and storage lockers. Charlie tried her best to stay out of his way and only grabbing what she was instructed to.

A few minutes later and they were well into preparing the counter-spell. There was an array of at least 20 bottles and vials and canisters scattered across the table, a large black marble bowl sitting in the centre of the chaos. Charlie was in the process of measuring out ingredients per Sam’s instructions; every few seconds he would double check something in a heavy-looking teal leather-bound book. He continuously chanted under his breath as they worked – probably Greek, if Charlie had to guess.

After another five minutes, Sam picked up his grimoire and walked over to Gilda.

“Charlie, can you grab the bowl?”

“Sure thing,” she replied, grabbing the bowl from the table and joining them. The mess of ingredients had been mixed to create a greenish paste. She and Sam each scooped a bit onto their fingers. The book lay open between them as each of them took one of Gilda’s arms and drew a complex pattern of sigils and glyphs, which hovered suspended in her liquid form. The two of them worked in silence for quite a while, laser-focused on the task at hand. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of their hair as they turned to double-check their work in the grimoire.

Charlie sat back and rubbed the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Well, that should do it.” She had barely gotten the words out when a pair of translucent yellow shackles formed around Gilda’s wrists. They shimmered for a moment, then with a sound like glass breaking, shattered into pieces.

Gilda gasped. She stared at her wrists, turning them around and back again. She looked up at Charlie, her pearl eyes sparkling.

“Oh, thank you, thank you both so much!” she cried. She threw her arms around Charlie and kissed her like her life depended on it. Charlie stumbled backwards at the sudden armful of undine, but she tried her damndest to give back as good as she got.

Gilda finally released her, their lips separating with an audible * _pop_ *. She turned her attention to Sam, wrapping him in a giant bear hug. She pulled back with a giant grin on her face.

“I will find some way to thank you properly, I promise you.”

Sam grinned back at her. “I appreciate the sentiment, but uh –” he shot a look out the corner of his eye at a shell-shocked Charlie “– I think you’ve shown your thanks just fine.”

Gilda giggled like a burbling stream, and with a splash, vanished on the spot.

The next morning, the crew took their coffee and breakfast to the backdrop of a breaking news report, detailing how Gerry Perkins drowned in his bed in the night. Sam had also received a present at the foot of his berth – the spellbook that had once been in Gerry’s possession.

As they pulled out of the harbour, Charlie lounged out on the back deck. She had no reason to believe the splash she saw a few yards out was anything other than Gilda saying goodbye.

* * *

On the evening of September 18th, Dean eased _Ramble On_ up to the docks of the South Shore Harbor Marina of New Orleans. He took a deep breath, letting out the tension in his shoulders on the exhale. They were taking the week off for a vacation; they were close enough that Benny could go visit his family, while the rest of the crew saw the sights of the Big Easy.

Charlie, Adam, and Benny clambered out from below deck, ready to be back on dry land for a while. Sam brought up the rear of the group; he raised his eyebrows at Dean, questioning him silently. Dean shook his head in response. He jerked his chin up, telling Sam that they could go on ahead and that he’d catch up.

Dean took his time tying off the boat, moving in an almost meditative state. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the splash that came from just below the dock. He froze, eyeing the water carefully. He quickly finished tying off the boat, not looking away from the water. He stood slowly, drawing his gun from his waistband and peering over the edge of the dock.

Not two feet in front of him, looking up at him from the water, was a man. He had dark tousled hair, scaly fins sprouting from where his ears would be, and big, wide blue eyes.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be including more pictures of character's tails in chapters where they become relevant, so be on the look out for that. Thanks for reading!


	5. Child of the Moving Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereupon - the moment you've all been waiting for...
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Bluenose" by Stan Rogers.

Dean stared down at the strange figure peering up at him from the water. His tanned skin and dark tousled hair looked human enough, but aside from that…

Instead of ears, there were fin-like appendages on the sides of his head. They were covered in tiny black scales, with a few stray silver ones mixed in. And his eyes. Like cecaeliae, the entire eye was one solid colour; but while a cecaelia’s eyes were black, his eyes were blue. Not a deep blue, like sapphires or cobalt or the deep ocean. These eyes were the colour of a cloudless sky in summer, or the water near the coastline of a tropical island.

Dean would recognize those eyes anywhere.

He slowly, conspicuously, put his gun back in his waistband. He took a step closer to the edge of the dock, then another. He sat down, his legs dangling above the water. Not once did he take his eyes off the other man.

The man didn’t take his eyes off of Dean, either, as he swam up to the edge of the dock. Those big, bright, blue eyes were entrancing.

“I know you,” Dean said. He barely remembered what had happened, but he was sure this was the same creature whose eyes he’d seen after the storm.

The creature nodded, unblinking. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and saved you from the tempest.” His voice was a deep, rumbling baritone, just as Dean somehow knew it would be.

Dean swallowed roughly. “Yeah, thanks for that,’ he murmured. His eyes swept along the creature’s face, studying him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Moon.”

Dean blinked. “Moon,” he deadpanned. “Just Moon?”

Moon fixed him with a wry look; it was incredible how those solid-blue eyes could be so expressive. He reached up, bracing his arms on the dock. Dean saw that his fingers were also covered in the same black and silver scales, from the second knuckle to the tip, and ended in sharp claws. With a slight grunt, he heaved himself out of the water.

Dean stared, possibly slightly open-mouthed, at the sleek, powerful tail that now draped along the dock. It was also covered in pitch-black scales, and a few sparkling silver scales were strewn about amongst them. His right hip was taken up with a large circle of those same silver scales. The flukes at the end of his tail thumped against the dock post. It had a few haphazard streaks of silver along its length. He looked as if he was wrapped in the night sky.

“My full name is Full Moon At Midnight. Most of us just refer to each other with nicknames.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and tipped his head. “Yeah, I can see why – that’s a hell of a mouthful.” He continued staring at Moon’s tail, reluctant to look away. “Speaking of ‘us’, what exactly _are_ you? I’ve seen a lot of creatures, but I’ve never seen anythin’ like you before.”

“I’m a merrow,” Moon said, straightening up, tilting his chin up in a mildly self-satisfied expression. Dean bit his lip, completely taken aback by how adorable it was.

“So, what’s a merrow doing out here? I assume you’re quite a ways from home, since I’ve never encountered any of your kind before.”

“I was following you.”

Dean pulled his head back and blinked in surprise. “You what?” Okay, that was a little creepy. Dean was staring to have second thoughts about putting his gun away.

“I was uncertain of your condition; the magic we used to heal you has never been used on a human before. I was watching to ensure that you were still okay.”

Still creepy, but slightly less so.

Wait.

“What magic?” Dean asked. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the shimmery teal tattoo. “Is that what this is?”

Moon locked his gaze on the handprint, and he reached out and pressed his clawed hand to it. Dean had never known any other touch on his skin to be so gentle, or so reverent. He could feel a slight warmth and a tingling feeling where their skin met. His eyes widened as the tattoo glowed faintly.

Moon’s eyes darted up to catch Dean’s. “Yes, it is. I admit, I’m not the best with healing magic,” he said, pulling his hand away, his shoulders up in an apologetic shrug and his face now turned away from Dean’s, “so I had to seek my sister’s assistance. This part –” he motioned to the winding ribbon part of the tattoo, “– is the mark from the healing spells she used.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay – so then what’s the handprint for?”

If Dean hadn’t been watching him as closely as he was, he would’ve missed Moon’s shoulders tense slightly. He turned to face the merrow head-on. “What is it?” he asked reproachfully.

“It’s… Ripple was hesitant to assist me in healing you,” said Moon, apologetically, “so I needed to prove to her that helping you wouldn’t be a mistake. I used this –” he placed his hand back on the tattoo “– to take a glimpse at your mind.”

And now they were right back in creepy territory. “You were digging around inside my head?” Dean exploded. If there was one thing Dean hated more than anything else, it was the possibility of something messing around with his thoughts.

Moon somehow managed to look both chagrined and exasperated at the same time. “The spell only allows the caster to view surface level thoughts and emotions – just enough to be able to tell if you would bring danger to us. I would never wish to violate your privacy, Dean.”

Dean tried to search his tone for any hint of deception or manipulation and found none; as far as he could tell, either Moon was a phenomenal liar, or he was actually being honest about his intentions.

Despite the fact that Dean was usually fairly distrustful of strangers, and even more so when those strangers weren’t human, he believed Moon. There was absolutely no rhyme or reason for it, no proof that he wasn’t just going to drag Dean under the docks to drown him (and maybe eat him?), but nonetheless, Dean believed him.

“You know my name?”

Moon raised his eyebrows at him sarcastically. “Well, I did just say that I saw your surface thoughts; usually that includes your identity.” He paused for a moment and watched as Dean squirmed uncomfortably. He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I _did_ also hear your crew use it as I was following your boat.”

The two sat in silence for a short while; Dean’s eyes roamed across Moon’s form. Everything about him was fascinating, from his powerful tail, to his sharp claws, to his impossibly blue eyes. And, okay, if Dean was being totally honest, the dude was hot. He might not have had as much experience with men as he did women, but he wasn’t fucking blind. His upper, human-looking body was tanned and toned. Dean could barely tear his eyes away from Moon’s arms. He drank him in, drowning in his presence.

He knew Moon was doing the same; he could feel those too-blue eyes following along every line and curve and divot of his body. He was sure his face was flaming red, and he could feel how hot his cheeks were. He wasn’t used to this kind of careful scrutiny. It felt like Moon could lay his soul bare and read every secret, every flaw, every wish and dream and desire written there. Despite the cool evening air and the breeze coming in off the ocean, the air between them was stifling.

Dean coughed loudly, breaking the moment. He pulled away from where he had been starting to lean forwards, turning away from Moon and scratching the back of his neck. “So, uh, you came all this way just to make sure I was okay? Gotta say, Moon, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.” Dean sighed. “You shouldn’t have bothered, though; I’m not worth the effort.”

“Yes you are.” Dean froze, his heart hammering in his chest at the steady surety in Moon’s voice. “When I found you, there was something about you… I can’t explain it, but I was drawn to you.” Moon’s claws brushed gently along Dean’s chin as he tilted his head up to look him in the eye. “You’re worth whatever I want to give, Dean.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He had never felt such a strong connection to anyone else in such a short amount of time. Some tiny little voice in the back of his mind wondered whether merrow had mental manipulation abilities like sirens, because this was _certainly_ not normal behavior for him. The larger part of his mind didn’t give a single shit. His tongue peeked out to lick his lips.

He grasped Moon’s elbow – the arm still gently holding his chin – and leaned in. Dean brushed a feather-light kiss against Moon’s plush pink lips. He tasted like sea salt.

He pulled back, his eyes fluttering open again. Moon’s eyes popped open a moment later. He stared at Dean for a moment, then grinned, for the first time showing Dean a proper smile. His teeth were sharp and jagged like a shark’s. Somehow that only made him more attractive.

Dean felt like a goddamn teenager, blushing and giggling like an idiot over his first kiss with someone. They grinned at each other, giddy and delighted. A moment or two later, Moon suddenly started, staring wide eyed at something behind Dean. It took him a moment to be present enough to hear footfalls on the dock. Dean looked over his shoulder to see his giant little brother heading towards them. The rest of the crew were following slowly a ways behind him.

“You know, Dean, when you say you’re gonna catch up with us later, we actually kind of, y’know, expect you to catch…up…” Sam trailed off. He had evidently noticed Moon, judging by his bugged-out eyes and open mouth. His jaw moved up and down uselessly for a few seconds, struck speechless. His eyes darted back and forth between Dean and Moon.

Dean was about to tell Sammy to shut his yap or he’d catch flies, but he was distracted by a splash behind him. He whirled around just in time to see the tips of Moon’s fins disappear beneath the surface of the water.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little on the shorter side, but that's what you're getting, so deal with it :p.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	6. Honey, All I See Is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some world building, some foreshadowing, some cute shippy stuff, and some making fun of Dean. What more could you want? ;)
> 
> Chapter title taken from "45 Years" by Stan Rogers. If there was any one song of his I'd recommend you listen to, it's this one.

Dean watched the water ripple at the spot where Moon had disappeared back under. He cursed under his breath; trust his obnoxious little brother to stick his nose into his business and make everything worse. He stood and turned to face Sam, and leveled him with the most unimpressed look he could manage.

“Wow, nice going, Sammy. Real smooth move, scaring him off like that.”

Sam shook his head incredulously. “Scare him off? Dean, what the hell _was_ that?” He swung an arm out and gestured past the edge of the dock. Dean glared at him.

“First of all, he’s a merrow –”

“A _what_?”

“– and second of all, he has a name.” Dean crossed his arms, staring his brother down. By now, the rest of the crew had caught up to them. Charlie was staring at the spot where Moon had been in a wide-eyed combination of curiosity and nervousness. Benny looked contemplative, and Adam mostly looked like he didn’t give a shit.

Sam scrubbed his hands roughly through his hair, a move Dean recognized as frustration. “How do you even know he’s a – what did you call it? A merrow?”

“Because he told me,” Dean said defiantly. He realized as he said it that it was probably the weakest argument ever, but he didn’t particularly care. Sam knew that too, judging by the way he leveled Dean with Bitchface Number 1, Are-you-fucking-serious-right-now-Dean?

“And you just, believed him? Just like that?”

“What reason would he have to lie? He knew we hadn’t seen any of his species before, and it’s not like calling him the wrong thing would give him any kind of advantage if he wanted to attack us.”

Sam worried his bottom lip between his teeth; his eyes darted around as he thought over what Dean said. For his part, Dean was completely blindsided by how quick he was to jump to Moon’s defense. He had only just met the dude, but something about him was so kind, so genuine, that it was ridiculous to believe that he would ever wish anybody harm. He watched as Sam his head towards Benny.

“What about you? You ever heard of a merrow before?”

Benny rubbed a hand over his stubble. “Heard of? Well, sure, I’ve heard of ‘em a fair bit. Never met one though – never knew anyone who did, either. For the most part, I just kinda assumed they were a myth.”

“What did you hear about them, specifically?” Sam demanded.

Benny shrugged. “Mostly how mysterious they are and how little anyone knows about them. As far as I know, they mostly keep to themselves. Can’t imagine they’d be too dangerous, else we’d’ve heard of a lot more of ‘em by now.”

Sam still looked unconvinced. “Well, why’d he run off then?”

“Gee, I dunno, maybe because a bunch of people who he didn’t know and wasn’t sure wouldn’t freak the fuck out on seeing an _actual goddamn merman_ showed up and started gawkin’ at him.”

Benny walked up and clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He probably didn’t go far; I’ll go look for him, see if I can talk some sense into him.”

Dean breathed out a small sigh of relief. At this point, he owed Benny _so_ many favours. “Thanks, man.”

Benny clapped his hand against Dean’s shoulder a couple of times. “Anytime, brother.” He lifted his big black coat from where it was draped over his arm and slung it around his shoulders. As he did up the buttons, the coat seemed to melt into his skin, and moments later a sleek black and grey harbour seal lay on the dock.

“Holy shit he’s a selkie,” Charlie murmured from where she stood behind Sam, her eyes somehow even wider than they already were. Benny gave a couple of short barks that sounded distinctly like laughter, before he slipped off the dock into the water.

Dean watched the water ripple and slowly settle from Benny’s dive. After a moment, he turned back around to see Sam watching him, concern etched into his face.

“Dean,” Sam said. He sighed, resigned, looking away for a moment and shaking his head. He found Dean’s eye again. “I just… even if he is a merrow like he says, we still don’t know anything about them, or about him.”

“You didn’t even talk to him, Sammy. He’s a good dude, trust me.”

“How are you so sure about that?”

“He saved me.”

Sam’s expression morphed into confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“After the storm, he saved me.” Dean rolled his sleeve, showing Sam the tattoo again. “This was him, healing me; well, him and his sister, apparently. I know it sounds totally crazy, but I’m sure it was him.”

Sam stared at the tattoo, his brow furrowed. After a long moment, Dean saw his shoulders relax and his expression turn sympathetic.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean’s heart pounded.

“Yeah, I believe you. If you really think that was him, then I’ll wait until he and Benny get back, give him a chance to tell us everything himself.”

Dean exhaled in relief and dropped his arms to his sides. He knew Sammy was only being cautious, and to be fair, a completely unknown species of creature was always something to be careful with.

“Thanks, Sammy.”

“Yeah, thanks, Sam, for not hating his new boyfriend,” Adam taunted from where he stood behind Sam. Dean leaned around Sam’s shoulder to glare at his _other_ obnoxious little brother.

“You’re an asshole – you know that, right?”

Adam just grinned wickedly. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I misinterpret that? Because I thought you were trying to get some tail.”

Dean spluttered, face growing red again. Adam, the little shit that he was, just snickered at his discomfort.

“Dude. Nice,” said Charlie, holding her hand up for a high five from Adam, which he eagerly gave.

“Et tu, Bradbury?”

She just shrugged. “Hey, I kissed an undine like a week ago, and we all know the story of Sam and the encantado,” she said as she elbowed Sam in the side. Sam joined Dean in blushing profusely.

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that again.”

Charlie snorted. “ _You_ agreed; _I_ said no such thing.” She turned back to Dean. “Basically, you’re late to the party.” She grinned at him. “Is he cute?”

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re a lesbian.”

“It’s not about whether I think he’s cute – now spill, Winchester.”

Sam groaned and tipped his head back. “I vote we stop talking about this. Immediately.”

“You were the one all gung-ho about talking about him in the first place,” Adam piped up.

“Yeah, that was before this all became about my brother’s love life.”

Dean closed his eyes and prayed for death. Maybe a sinkhole would open under the marina and swallow him whole. Or a freak tsunami would work. Or just jumping off the dock and drowning. Instead of any of that, the crew was pelted by a shower of water. As they blinked the spray away, they saw two figures hop up onto the dock.

Benny’s fur rippled and melted, and shortly after he stood before them, back in his human form, his sealskin draped over one arm. He walked back over to the group. As he reached Dean, he placed one hand on the back of his neck in a gesture of comfort.

“Everythin’s peachy. Just had a little misunderstandin’ to sort out.” He tipped his head to the side, cracking his neck. “Now, if y’all don’t mind, I’m gonna be hittin’ the hay now.” With that, he gave Dean a little two-finger salute and retreated back into the boat.

And there was Moon. Sitting on the dock near Dean’s feet, looking up at him, face a little bit sheepish. Dean turned and looked at him with a fond smile. “You okay now?”

Moon coughed and blushed, his cheeks faintly bluish-purple. “Um, yes. I guess I, uh, overreacted a little. I’m sorry about that.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you did. It’s all good.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at his family. “That’s about enough excitement for one day. It’s getting late; we’ll talk about … all this, tomorrow.” He sent a significant glance Moon’s way. “ _All_ of us.”

Various tired murmurs were tossed about by all parties. Sam, Adam, and Charlie tromped back up into the boat. Dean knelt down next to Moon.

“You gonna be good out here overnight?”

Moon nodded. “I’m very good at staying hidden.”

“Okay,” Dean murmured. He pressed a kiss to his cheek. “G’night.”

“Good night, Dean.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Benny bid a temporary farewell to the crew, slipped his coat back on, and dove into the bay. He was heading farther west along the coast, to visit his family pod. Everyone else gradually joined the waking world, clustered around the table with breakfast and coffee.

After fueling up for the day, the group spent most of the day hanging out on the dock, talking to Moon. He was more than happy to explain merrow physiology (“For the most part, our tail patterns are symmetrical, or at least equivalent dispersal of the secondary scale colour on each side. Mine is something of an anomaly in that regard”), magic (“We use magic, of course, but I wouldn’t consider us magical beings the way, say, a naiad is. Mostly, the healers are the only ones who use magic extensively. The rest of us have a rudimentary understanding of the basics”), and culture (“When one of us comes of age, we choose one of the three castes to enter: warriors, healers, or scholars. If at any point any of us no longer wish to be in that caste, we are of course welcome to change to another, so long as we get the approval of the Council”).

Sam in particular absorbed every word with wide-eyed fascination. Dean had to admit, just about everything Moon was super cool, and that included his whole species. It was on their second full day in New Orleans that they made an important discovery.

Moon was stretched out on the dock, allowing Sam and Adam to take his measurements and make a couple of simple sketches of his physique. He’d been in that position for about an hour, talking quietly with Dean while the other two brothers worked. They were debating what the most delicious fish was (Dean said salmon, Moon was in favour of whiting) when Moon’s face screwed up in confusion. Dean tilted his head, inspecting him.

“Moon? You okay?”

He didn’t immediately answer; he sat up, rubbing his fingers along the slits of his gills and staring at nothing. He swallowed audibly. “I feel…strange.”

Sam looked up from his journal. “Strange like sick, or what?”

Moon shook his head. “I don’t believe I’m ill. My throat feels dry, and I’m itchy.” He coughed once, twice, three times. When he pulled his hand away, a small pile of sand sat in his palm.

Then, his tail disintegrated. It fell away from his body in a rush of sand, the granules cascading along the docks, a few falling into the water below. Below were a perfectly normal human set of legs. His claws and ear-fins crumbled in a similar fashion. He blinked roughly a few times, and when he looked back up at Dean, his eyes looked human. Still that same piercing shade of tropical blue, but no longer all one colour like they usually were.

The brothers all stared and blinked stupidly at him for a moment.

“Huh.” Sam was the first to break the silence. “Merrows can dry out like cecaeliae do. Good to know.” He grabbed his journal again and started scribbling away. Adam shook his head to clear it and hauled himself up off the marina. He ducked into _Ramble On_ , muttering about letting Moon have some dignity.

Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders, steadying him. “Did you know about this?”

Moon shook his head, groaning. “I had no idea. I’ve never had any reason to come up on land before, nor have any of my colony.” Dean rubbed his shoulder with one hand, while the other reached up to brush the sand out of his hair. Adam returned a minute or so later with a small pile of Dean’s clothes.

“I figured you’d probably be the closest to his size,” he said, offering Moon the pile, “and you probably wouldn’t mind sharing all that much.” He gave Dean a too-innocent look. Once again, Dean turned beet-red, grumbling out an incredibly sarcastic thanks as he helped Moon into his clothes.

“That didn’t hurt, did it?” He asked as he pulled one of his old t-shirts over Moon’s head.

“No, not at all. It was mostly just disorienting.”

Sam started jabbering at Moon again, asking him all sorts of questions about his transformation. Dean didn’t really listen. Instead, an idea started forming in his head.

The next day passed very much like the previous two, with everyone in the crew learning about Moon and Moon learning about everyone else. Towards the end of the day, Dean pulled Sam aside.

“Hey, listen, do you mind hanging out with Moon tomorrow? Maybe, I dunno, go shopping, get him some of his own stuff?”

Sam side-eyed Dean. “I mean, I don’t mind, but shouldn’t you be the one helping him with that?”

“I would, but the thing is,” Dean scratched the back of his neck, “I’m kinda… planning something.”

Sam smirked. “‘Something’? You mean a date?”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean grumbled.

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Sam drawled.

Dean was gonna kill him. He didn’t need two brothers, he still had Adam. “Just… help him out?”

“Yeah, I’ll help him get ready for your guys’ date,” Sam taunted.

“Oh my god, fuck off.” Dean dragged his hands down his face. Sam just walked away, laughing at him. Which was probably fair, but still.

The next day, Sam took Moon shopping for clothes and other essentials. In the meantime, Dean, Charlie, and Adam wandered around the Big Easy. Dean had visited the city a couple of times before, and was more than happy to play tour guide to the others for an afternoon. They all met back up for dinner before heading back to the boat.

Just before Dean turned in for the night, he approached Moon. He tipped his head toward the bags in his hands. “You find everything you need?”

Moon turned to him, a distressed expression on his face. “There’s so many options! How do you ever choose anything?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a lot. You’ll figure out what you like and kinda just stick to that.” He bit his lip. “So, uh, I had an idea for tomorrow.”

Moon nodded. “Sam mentioned that – he said you had something special planned.”

Yep. Sammy’s gonna die. “Uh, yeah, something like that.” He tipped his head up, breathing deeply to psych himself up. He dropped his head back down and looked Moon in the eye. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Moon’s eyes sparkled as a wide smile spread across his face. Dean’s heart stuttered at the sight. “I would love to.”

Dean nodded slowly, somewhat stunned by both Moon’s face and his enthusiasm. “Right. Right! Okay. Great. Cool. Um.”

Moon laughed softly. Dean blushed and ducked his head, nudging him with his elbow.

“I’m sorry,” Moon said through his laughter, unconvincingly. After a moment of pretending to glare, Dean cracked, adding his own laughter to the mix.

“Nah, you’re good, I’m just a mess.” He grinned. “Make sure you’re all dried out tomorrow – and dress nice.”

“I can do that.” Moon stepped up into Dean’s space. He passed him his bags, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then stripped and jumped into the water. Dean grinned like a complete doofus. He spun around on his heel and retreated back to the boat for the night.

* * *

The next afternoon, Dean met Moon on the dock by the boat. Dean had to admit, the guy cleaned up well; in khaki shorts, navy blue boat shoes and a pale blue short-sleeve button down, he looked like every other tourist visiting the city. The two men set out for a seafood restaurant that Dean had found during his first trip to New Orleans years ago. It was close to the coast, the outdoor patio seating where they sat was perfumed with the scent of salt water.

While they waited first to order and then for their food to arrive, Dean talked at length about his life. He told Moon about growing up on the sea, hunting with his father and brother, meeting Benny and Adam; he talked about all of his favourite things, from movies to books to food, telling Moon that he’d have to try all of them at some point. For his part, Moon hung on to every word, his gaze never wavering from Dean’s face.

Once their server distributed their food, Dean quieted. He dropped his elbows to the table, clasped his hands, and plopped his chin on them.

“So,” he started, “that’s enough about me. What about you?”

Moon froze, his eyes wide and his fork full of seafood linguini halfway to his mouth. He put the fork down. “Um. What about me?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve spent the last few days learning about merrows, but that’s just your species, not _you_.” He thought for a second as Moon picked his fork back up and started eating. “Like – a couple days ago, you mentioned that you all get sorted into castes, right? Which one are you in?”

Moon chewed and swallowed. “I’m a member of the warrior caste.” He tipped his chin up in obvious pride. Dean felt his expression melt into something impossibly fond.

“So, what does that entail? You fight off any sea monsters that might attack your colony?”

“Partially, yes. We’re also the colony’s hunters and gatherers.” Moon grew quiet. He sighed heavily and bowed his head. “We used to have a greater role.”

Dean raised his eyebrows slightly. “What did you do?” he asked around a mouthful of food.

Moon pushed his food around his plate. His gaze was distant, as if he was remembering something. “We used to be at war. There was a nearby cecaelia colony that would occasionally ambush our warriors as they hunted – usually individually or in pairs.” He bit his lip, lost in thought. “I don’t know all the details, as it stayed fairly private amongst the Council. The Council at the time was actually unprecedented – there had never been all three caste leaders from the same clutch before.”

Dean furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar term. “Clutch?”

Moon looked back up. “Oh, right - well, each year following the mating season, all the eggs are gathered in the spawning caverns. Once they hatch, the younglings are raised together as clutchmates.”

“So, you guys don’t know who your parents are?” Moon blinked and tilted his head to the side, confused. “Uh, the people responsible for…making you. Or your egg, I guess.” That was a concept he was gonna have to get used to.

“Why would it matter who makes our eggs? The caretakers raise the new hatchlings, and the rest of the colony teaches and supports them until adulthood.”

“It takes a village to raise a child, huh?”

Moon tipped his head in acknowledgement. “That is an apt way of describing it, yes.” He took another bite of his food. While he chewed, his eyes flicked from left to right and back again, thinking. He swallowed heavily. “As I was saying, it’s unheard of for three gold-eyes to hatch in one clutch, but they did.”

“Wait, wait; gold eyes?”

“Most merrows have blue eyes,” he said, motioning to his own with the back of his fork, “but rarely, one will be hatched with gold eyes instead. No one can explain the phenomenon, but the gold-eyes are chosen as the leaders of the castes and form the Council that leads the colony.”

Dean blinked. “That’s… really? _That’s_ how you guys choose your leaders?”

Moon shrugged helplessly. “It’s tradition,” he said, with the tone of someone who also recognized it was ridiculous but was in no position to question the system. “Anyways, three gold-eyes in one clutch was unheard of, but all three of them ended up as the Council at the same time, as the previous members either passed on or stepped down.”

“The cecaelia colony was getting bolder in their attacks, coming closer and closer to the borders of our territory. The High Warrior started bringing more into the warrior caste to fight them off and stop their incursions. I was still quite young when this happened, only just coming of age in the middle of the war.”

He stopped to eat for a moment. He spoke up again while in the middle of chewing. “Now, this part, I don’t know everything about, but from what I know, the High Scholar was jealous of the High Warrior. I think he wanted to lead the warrior caste himself, but was chosen by the former High Scholar for his position instead, and didn’t want to turn them down and appear ungrateful.” He swallowed and took a sip of water. “Over time, that jealousy turned to bitter resentment. He ended up sneaking out of the colony to join the cecaelia, giving them detailed information about our numbers, the layout of the colony, our magic and weaponry. What had started as minor skirmishes turned into a full-fledged war.”

Moon breathed deeply for a moment, collecting himself. Dean just sat, wide-eyed, as he told his story.

“A few years later, the war ended, the cecaeliae’s numbers reduced severely enough that they were forced to pull back. From what I’ve seen and heard from various scouting parties, it seems like they’ve abandoned their former colony entirely. Blood and Wine Staining the Tide ended up killing Shimmering Pearls Strewn in Bright Sand himself.”

“Who?”

“The High Warrior and former High Scholar, respectively. The Council’s names are longer as a display of their rank.” His expression turned sad. “After the war, a new High Scholar was chosen. He had actually been one of my own clutchmates.”

Dean caught the word choice. “He ‘had’ been? What happened to him?”

Moon shrugged. “No one knows. About ten years ago, he just disappeared. There have been merrows who have chosen to leave the colony and set out on their own, but never a member of the council, and certainly not without choosing their successor.” He bit his lower lip, gaze downcast.

Dean reached a hand across the table to grasp Moon’s. “What was his name?” he asked softly.

“Surf Lit With the First Rays of Sunrise. His scales were beautiful, gold and green, like sunlight along the top of the water. He would always tell silly jokes and wild stories to make us laugh.” He sighed again. “I miss him. Recently, a new High Scholar was chosen to replace him, but she’s so young, and I fear the colony has suffered from two High Scholars in a row abandoning us.”

The two stayed quiet as they finished their meal. Moon was clearly lost in memories, and Dean turned everything he had just heard over in his head. One thought crept up like a shard of ice in his mind.

They ordered dessert, and as they ate, Dean decided to just bite the bullet. “So, what’s your plan here?”

Moon looked confused. “What do you mean?”

Dammit. He was just supposed to be able to read Dean’s mind, so he wouldn’t have to say it. “I mean… you’ve gotta get back home at some point, right?”

Moon chuckled, but his tone was bitter. “Honestly? I don’t know that I have a place ‘back home’ anymore,” he said, actually making air quotes as he spoke. Again, Dean didn’t know how this man could be so cute. “While we were at war, most of us who came of age joined the warrior caste. But now that it’s over…”

“There’s too many of you,” Dean guessed.

Moon nodded. “Exactly. We can all patrol the edges of our territory for enemies, and hunt for food, but we aren’t really necessary. I could petition the council to change castes, but with so many warriors and so little danger in comparison, I would feel just as useless as a healer, and I have no skill as an artisan for the scholars.”

He huffed a wry laugh, tipping his head down. “I think I used you as an excuse to leave. If it was to make sure you were okay, or to protect you, then I had a purpose.”

Dean sat for a moment, trying to wrap his brain around what Moon was saying. He cleared his throat roughly. “Well, you can stay with us as long as you like. We could always use another pair of hands, and you’ve got expertise that no one else in the crew has.”

Dean felt like a superhero with the way Moon’s eyes lit up, his face hopeful. “You’d let me stay?”

“Of course I would, what kind of asshole do you think I am, to just kick you to the curb.” He realized what he just said. “Don’t answer that.”

Moon snickered, his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way possible. Dean gently kicked his leg beneath the table. “Now hurry up and finish eating – it’s not a New Orleans date night without hitting up a jazz club.”

Several hours later, the two men stumbled out of a nearby dance hall, laughing uproariously with their arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Holy shit, you’re the worst! How can anyone be that bad at dancing?”

“I didn’t even have legs until a few days ago – what’s your excuse?”

Dean was sent into a fresh round of hysterics. He gradually managed to get his laughter under control, and the two strolled in the dim evening light back to the docks. Dean snaked his hand into Moons as they walked. He felt Moon’s fingers tighten around his for a moment, then relaxed into an easy grip.

As they approached the marina, they came upon a gift shop. Dean kept walking for a second or two before Moon’s grip on his hand pulled him backward. He turned to see what had caught his attention. Moon had stopped in his tracks, staring at the various trinkets and tchotchkes in the windows.

“You see something you like?”

Moon turned his big blue eyes on Dean. “I have no money.”

Dean groaned, playing at being put out. “Alright, fine, but nothing too crazy.” The two of them entered the shop. Moon made a beeline for a display of necklaces, comprised of leather cords and silver pendants in the shape of Louisiana. He pulled one off the rack and held it out to Dean.

“Sure, why not,” Dean said as he pulled out his wallet. He paid the poor college student working the till and passed the necklace back to Moon. As they left the shop, he watched as Moon undid the clasp on the necklace. Instead of putting it on, he ripped the pendant off of it, tossing it in the bushes somewhere.

“Woah, hey, what’s that for?” He watched as Moon dug in his shorts pocket and pulled out something shiny, which he fed onto the cord. When he was done, he turned back to Dean, holding the necklace out to him.

“I, uh, don’t really know how this works for humans,” he said, sheepishly, “but for merrows… it’s dangerous in the ocean. We never really know how much longer we have. We love quickly.” He opened his hand; the necklace now carried three shimmery scales, one silver one in the middle bracketed on each side by a black one.

Dean’s heart hammered in his chest. He turned his wide eyes to Moon’s. “What… what exactly is this?”

“It’s a token – we give each other a few of our scales as a token of our affection. It’s also a promise, that we’ll stay with one another.” He took a step closer to Dean and held up the necklace. “May I?”

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat. Moon brought the two ends of the necklace together, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean could feel tears prickle in his eyes as Moon stepped back again. “I, uh,” he huffed, “I don’t know what to say.” He chuckled. “And here I thought I was the one surprising you.” He brought a hand up to run his fingers reverently over the scales.

Moon smiled indulgently. “We can surprise each other.”

When they reached the boat, Dean pulled him up onto the deck. He led him down into the boat, to his cabin. “The others decided to let us have the place to ourselves for the night.”

“Oh, did they? I’ll be sure to thank them later,” Moon said, voice incredibly smug.

Dean grinned. Tomorrow, Benny would be getting back, and the day after that they’d be heading back up the coast towards Canada. But tonight, they had all the time in the world and nothing but each other to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the merrow world-building stuff is based on my own headcanons for angels in SPN proper; stuff like gold grace for the archangels, primary and secondary feather colour, feather tokens to their mate, the division into warriors/seraphs, healers/hashmal, and scholars/malak (I'm definitely ignoring canon for that last one). Also, props to anyone who notices a particular bit of foreshadowing that this chapter hammers home, but actually started much earlier!
> 
> **Edit:** Since I completely forgot to do it earlier, here's HarbourSeal!Selkie!Benny 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Make and Break, and Make Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace for impact - things take a turn for the slightly-less-than fluffy this chapter...
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Make and Break Harbour" by Stan Rogers.

It was times like this that Charlie really regretted her choice to become a sea hunter.

The hunt had started simply enough; they had gotten word of a pack of grindylow skulking around just off the coast of Georgia. They had just left New Orleans a few days ago, and were ready to get back into the swing of things.

Grindylow, individually, weren’t too dangerous – the danger came from how they would swarm their victims. One couldn’t do much damage on its own, but a dozen or so? The remains of the victims ended up looking more like ground beef than a person.

 _Ramble On_ was out on the open water a ways out from Brunswick, the anchoring spell scrawled in its usual teal oil pastel on the gunwale. The sky was clear and a gentle wind would have made a beautiful atmosphere, if not for how the water churned. It wasn’t the tide, however – the pack of grindylow was swarming around the boat, ramming it and stirring up the water around it to try to knock the crew in.

Charlie had just barely gotten her feet back under her when another slam against the bottom of the boat sent her stumbling again. She reeled, falling against the gunwale. She panted as the breath was knocked from her lungs. She took just a second to breath, then pushed herself up again and steadied her gun, letting loose a couple of shots into the water. Judging by the shrill shrieking that followed, she’d say her hit her target.

The rest of the crew were having just about the same amount of success as she was; they’d occasionally get a shot or two off against the pack, then a slam would knock them or their aim away. She heard Dean cursing up a storm from towards the bow and a bullet plunging into the water several meters too far away to hit the grindylow.

“Is there any better way to deal with these things?” Charlie yelled.

“Not unless you wanna jump in there and probably get eaten,” Sam yelled back, struggling to reload his pistol as slam after slam rocked the boat. A particularly violent hit threw Charlie off the gunwale and sent her stumbling back towards the center of the deck.

Shots continued to ring out as the crew slowly picked off the grindylow one by one. After several more minutes, only about a third of the pack was left. Charlie had just been thinking that dealing with them would take all day when the whole swarm let out a chilling, ear-piercing shriek. All at once, the remaining grindylow turned and fled, dispersing into the ocean.

The whole crew was frozen in shock for a moment. Charlie’s eyes darted about, not wanting to move in case they came back.

Adam was the first to speak. “Uh… have you ever seen them do that before?”

“Can’t say I have,” said Benny, sounding stunned. Sam shook his head slowly. Dean came stomping back towards them from where he was posted up on the bow.

“Everybody, trade out your pistols for shotguns and get below deck. Sammy, come with me and grab the spear guns.” His voice was tight, and his expression grim. Knowing Dean, that was a terrifying combination.

None of them were keen on questioning their captain – least of all Charlie – and she scrambled to grab a shotgun from one of the storage compartments. She tossed them out to Adam, Benny, and Moon, and all four of them made sure their ammo was stocked up.

“You know what’s going on, Dean?” she heard Sam ask from behind her. Dean huffed a humourless snort.

“Yeah – dealt with a pack of grindylow with Dad a few years back.”

“Yeah, I know, so did I.”

“No, this was while you were in college. They scattered, just like this.”

Charlie turned back around and saw the brothers loading up a pair of spear guns. “Why’d they scatter?” Sam questioned.

“They were spooked.” Dean balanced his spear gun against one shoulder and rubbed his free hand down his face. “Don’t know if it’s the only thing that freaks ‘em out like this, but last time they vamoosed ‘cause a kraken showed up.”

A deafening silence followed that statement. Charlie swallowed roughly. “A…kraken,” she said, dumbly.

Moon looked contemplative. “Kraken aren’t normally found this close to shore, nor this close to the surface. How big would you say it was?”

Dean shrugged, his mouth pulled down into a sturgeon face. “I dunno, probably about the size of the boat? Not including the tentacles.”

“It was probably a juvenile, then. The adults can often reach the size of a small island.”

“Not helping, Moon!” Charlie squeaked.

He turned to her, his eyes wide and innocent. “Oh, the adults wouldn’t leave their caverns in the deep ocean; if it is a kraken, it would only be around 40 feet.” He paused. “Well, the body is 40 feet – the limbs add another 80 or so in each direction.”

“That’s not better!” She all-but shrieked.

A shape moved out in the water. It had to be around a hundred feet from the boat, possibly less. It didn’t break the surface, but they could all see its dark shape push the water up with its body. They watched the shadow of it below the surface wind its way back and forth, slowly but steadily making its way towards them.

Charlie bit her lip; she didn’t dare to even so much as breathe. The creature continued its slow advance, winding through the water.

“That doesn’t look like a kraken,” Sam muttered.

Once the creature got to around 40 feet from the boat, they finally got their first good glimpse at it. A section of its body crested up and out of the water. Its body was long and sinuous, coiling like a snake. Its scaled skin was striped, alternating between a sickly-looking yellow-green and a dark, murky teal. Dark teal fins stretched along its back, tipped with razor-sharp spines that glinted in the sunlight. Charlie watched in absolute terror as the thing pulled more and more of its body out of the water.

It stretched up its long sinuous neck and pulled its head up and out of the water. More of those dark fins were on its head, one on the very top and two on the sides of its face. Its crimson red eyes shone as it turned its snake-like head from side to side, surveying the area. A long forked tongue escaped from its mouth and tasted the air.

Charlie took several involuntary steps backwards, her heart pounding and her breathing heavy. Her wide eyes were locked on the monster, not daring to look away even in the slightest.

“Oh god,” she whimpered.

She heard Dean’s throat click as he audibly gulped beside her. “That’s … that’s a sea serpent,” he said, his voice much higher than usual.

The serpent stilled. It opened its mouth impossibly wide, unhinging its jaw to reveal rows of dagger-like teeth, and two long, curved fangs at the front of its mouth. It let out a horrible hissing screech as it reared back before whipping forward to strike at the boat.

Several people shrieked as they scattered around the deck. Charlie dove out of the way of the serpent and rolled up onto one knee. She brought up her shotgun and pumped one, two, three rounds into its neck. It recoiled, thrashing its head around as it shrieked in pain.

The gunshots seemed to snap everyone else out of their reverie, as the rest of the crew sprang into action all at once. Benny stepped up beside Charlie, unloading his own shotgun into the serpent’s body. She could hear Moon and Adam firing off their guns as well. The serpent writhed, trying to escape their onslaught.

It dove back down under the water; as it did, everything went startlingly silent. Charlie felt her heart pound in her chest for but a few seconds, before the serpent exploded out of the water again on the other side of the boat. It reared its head back once again, and struck out directly towards Charlie. She tried her best to roll out of the way. It was enough for the serpent to not swallow her or bite her in half. However, she wasn’t able to completely evade its massive fangs; she felt one of them graze along her back, right between her shoulder blades.

A screaming, white-hot pain erupted from where the fang grazed Charlie. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the deck, her vision going white. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She could feel tears streaming down her cheeks as she whimpered. She tried to get her arms under her and push herself up on her elbows, but her arms trembled like a tree in a hurricane, too weak to support her.

Distantly, she could hear shouting. Guns were still going off around her, but the shots sounded more like popcorn than gunfire. She heard the serpent shrieking again, sounding even angrier than it was before. A dull * _chink*_ rang out as one of the spear guns was fired. A second similar shot closely followed. She heard the serpent scream, which petered out into a low gurgle. A massive splash of water rocked the boat.

She forced her eyes open, not sure when she screwed them shut. Her vision was blurry, but she could make out the shapes of the rest of the crew. One of them was getting larger as they hurried towards her. Whoever it was picked her up, carrying her bridal style; she whimpered again as their arm rubbed against the open wound.

“Shh-shh-shh, you’re okay.” Oh. It was Sam. “You’re gonna be just fine.” He was talking in his “reassuring the witnesses” voice. That wasn’t exactly inspiring. “We’re just going below deck, get that wound treated.”

Sam set her down so she was sitting on the couch. He helped her twist around so she could lie down on her stomach. He gently brushed his fingers against her shirt.

“Hey, I know it sucks, but we’re going to have to remove this so we can get a better look at the wound.”

Charlie turned her head so that one eye could see Sam. “Th’s jus a ploy t’get me outta m’shirt, isn’it?” she slurred.

Sam chuckled. “Damn, you got me. Ever since we met, I’ve only ever tried to see your boobs,” he said, in the most sarcastic voice Charlie had ever heard from him – which was saying a lot. She tried to laugh, but it mostly game out as a groan. Sam shushed her again, gently, as he pulled out his knife and carefully cut her shirt away from the slash on her back.

As he worked, Charlie heard several sets of footsteps thundering into the living area.

“The hell do you mean, you can’t? It’s not a request, Adam, it’s an order.” That was Dean.

“Oh, I’m sorry – I must have forgotten the part in my pre-med classes that taught me how to treat wounds from a _fucking sea serpent_.” And that was Adam.

“Well then what the hell did we bring you on board for?”

“Alright, both of you, stow it,” Sam said as he got up from the couch, tone clipped. “Dean, calm down. You know you’re not being fair.” Charlie heard Dean grumble. “Adam, if there’s _anything_ you can do to help…”

Adam sighed. “I’ll do what I can, but I don’t know how much I actually _can_ do. Looking at the veins around the wound –” Charlie felt his fingers draw a circle on her shoulder next to the gash “– the serpent was venomous, and it’s progressing rapidly. We’re gonna have to get her to a real hospital.”

“We’re only about an hour and a half out from Brunswick,” Dean said.

“Are you serious, Dean? A doctor takes one look at that wound and they’re gonna be asking questions we can’t answer,” Sam said. “We have to get back home to the clinic.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean said, emphatically. “What did you say the top speed on this thing was again?”

“8.4 knots.”

“We’ll see about that.” With that, Charlie heard Dean stomp back out onto the deck. A minute or two later, the engine rumbled to life beneath them.

“I’ve seen sea serpent bites before,” Moon said. Charlie hadn’t even realized he’d joined them below. “The venom works quickly. We don’t have a lot of time – probably a week, at most.”

“Do you know anything that can help her?” Adam asked.

“I don’t have the training to heal such a wound,” he replied, “but I know someone who does. I’ll find her and bring her back here. It will probably take me a day or so to get back.”

“If it’ll help Charlie, then do whatever you have to do, Moon,” Sam said.

If Moon responded, then Charlie didn’t hear it as the venom and her exhaustion caught up to her and she passed out.

* * *

Charlie awoke sometime later. She had no idea how long she’d been out for, but she could tell that someone had moved her while she was asleep. She was now out on the open deck, resting on a cot set up in the outboard seating area. At least, that’s where it felt like she was, since her face was half-buried into the cot and her eyes were still blurry from sleep.

She could, however, hear a voice. It certainly didn’t belong to anyone in the crew, since it was gentle and feminine. She squirmed a little, trying to see who the voice belonged to. A hand, slender and cool to the touch, laid itself on her upper arm.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” the woman said, “but my brother made it clear that you were in desperate need of healing. I thought it best to get started quickly.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks for that,” Charlie said groggily. “Who are you?” She craned her head around her shoulder. Another merrow sat behind her, with the same piercing all-blue eyes that Moon had, and hair that was almost as dark. It fell down to her shoulders in loose waves, still wet with saltwater. Her ear-fins, rather than Moon’s pitch black scales, were a light sky blue.

The merrow woman moved around her so Charlie could see her. Her tail was that same beautiful sky blue, with darker blue rippling stripes wrapping around it. She gazed calmly at Charlie.

“I was told your name is Charlie,” she said placidly.

Charlie swallowed. “Uh, yeah, that’s me. Who, uh, what’s your name?”

“I am Ripples in Water,” she said, “but most would call me Ripple.” Charlie felt Ripples cold hands run along her shoulders, clawed fingertips just barely grazing along the edge of the wound. Charlie just stared, not really sure what to say.

Ripple didn’t seem to mind. “I am glad my brother found me as quickly as he did; a wound like this, while appearing superficial, is difficult to treat.”

Charlie found her voice again. “You know how to treat it, though, right?”

Ripple nodded. “I’ve had extensive training as part of the healer caste. I’ve had to treat serpent venom several times before, but never for one who isn’t a merrow.”

“Is…is that going to be a problem?” Charlie asked, her voice small. She hoped Ripple would be as okay with humans as Moon was.

Ripple tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure yet; I don’t know how the venom will affect your physiology in comparison to ours.” Charlie let out a faint sigh of relief. Ripple watched her for a moment, then reached a hand up and laid it on Charlie’s cheek. “Rest now; I’ll watch over you.”

Charlie nodded, already feeling sleep overtake her again.

She blinked in and out of consciousness in much the same way for the next two days; sometimes one of the guys would be there, filling her in on their progress back to Edlund’s Cove and helping her choke down some water and soft food before she passed out again. Through it all, Ripple stayed, the ends of her tail dragging in the water behind the boat, keeping her from drying out. Sometimes, Charlie could feel her fingers as they carded through her hair, or heard her humming gently as she work on her injury.

Late in the day on September 30th, three days after she was injured, Ripple once again grazed her fingertips along the edges of the wound.

“I’ve done what I can to ease the pain, as well as to clean the wound,” she began, her voice oddly hesitant. “I had an idea of how to draw the venom out, but it’s a method I’ve never used before.”

Charlie propped herself up on her elbows, throwing a look over her shoulder at Ripple. “I thought you said you’d treated this before.”

“I have, but the method I used with other merrow wouldn’t work with human physiology.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Charlie laid back down and pillowed her head on her arms. “What were you thinking of doing?”

Ripple pressed her hand directly over the wound, palm flat in between Charlie’s shoulder blades. “I could create a minor bond. It would allow me to directly interact with the flow of blood in your body, at least for long enough to draw the venom out.”

“Okay, that sounds good so far. So why do you sound so unsure about it?”

Charlie heard Ripple squirm, her scales clinking against the deck. “Creating the bond would require me to look briefly into your mind. It may be… invasive.”

Charlie took only a moment to think about it. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, and if it helps me get better, then I’m all for it.” She turned her head to the side to be able to see Ripple better.

Ripple’s eyes were a little wider than normal, and unless the low light was playing tricks on Charlie’s eyes, just a hint of a blue-ish blush stained her cheeks. Charlie got the sudden impression that she said something wrong.

“You okay, Ripple?”

Ripple startled. She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I’m fine, thank you. I was just surprised by your trust in me.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s not like there’s anyone else I _can_ trust to heal me.”

Ripple nodded. Without saying another word, she pressed her hand down where it lay on the wound. Not enough pressure to hurt, but just enough to ground Charlie. She heard Ripple speak in her own language, clicking and whistling like a dolphin. A warmth spread through her back; Charlie felt like she was sinking into a hot bath. She could feel her heart beat, felt her pulse pound through her veins. She was hyper-aware of her own blood, could feel Ripple redirect it to force the venom from her bloodstream.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Ripple chanting in the merrow’s language as she pulled the toxin from Charlie. Eventually, Charlie felt the warmth draw back towards her shoulders before disappearing entirely. Ripple’s hand slipped from her back as she finished her spell. She sat back on her tail, panting slightly from exertion.

“That’s…a good start,” Ripple said, between breaths. “I will need… to do that a few more times… to draw out all of the venom.” She swallowed, catching her breath before continuing. “But not tonight. Your body needs to rest, and I need to restore my strength before I continue.”

Charlie pulled herself up a bit and propped herself back up on her elbows. She turned on to her side so she could look at Ripple without having to strain her neck. “Thank you, for all of this.”

Ripple blushed again, ducking her head. “You are very welcome, Charlie.”

The next couple of days saw a dramatic turn in Charlie’s health. Clearly, the spell Ripple used worked wonders in drawing the venom out of her body, and Charlie was able to actually eat heavier food again, and she could feel the strength returning to her limbs. Her legs were still a little shaky, and she couldn’t walk on her own, but they were almost back to Edlund’s Cove anyways, so she didn’t really feel the need to until they got back on dry land.

Each of the next three nights, Ripple repeated her spell to draw the venom out, and each time, the merrow ended up blushing and quiet. Charlie wondered what she ended up seeing in her head when she made the bond – hopefully it wasn’t any of her embarrassing memories or dirty fantasies.

With Charlie feeling better, she was able to actually stay awake for most of the day, and was able to hold a conversation for the most part. Sam and Benny came in a couple of times to check on her, and Adam spent a while talking with Ripple about the methods she used for healing and whether he would be able to adapt any of them for his own use.

She and Ripple ended up spending the afternoons talking with each other. Ripple was fairly quiet and stoic in comparison to Charlie, but she figured she had enough enthusiasm for the both of them. Charlie talked about her work in computer programing a few years ago, and how that had turned to hacktivism. She told her about the couple of solo hunts she had been on before joining the crew.

Ripple, in turn, talked about her training and experiences as a healer. She told Charlie stories of some of her most memorable patients. She also talked a great deal about Moon.

“So, hang on, explain something to me,” Charlie said in the middle of a story about the siblings’ childhood. “You and Moon call each other your siblings, but he’s also mentioned clutchmates. What’s the difference?”

“Clutchmates are the other merrow whose eggs were in the same clutch as yours – we were all hatched in the same year, and were raised and trained together. Moon and I are a special case.” She smiled; Charlie liked the look of it. “We’re twins. It’s a very rare phenomenon in our species, to have two hatchlings from the same egg.”

“Huh.” Charlie shimmied until she was lying flat on her stomach, giving Ripple easy access to the wound in order for her to work the spell.

Their session went as is usually did – the warmth, the chanting, the blood moving through Charlie’s body as Ripple drew the venom out. As usual, Ripple pulled away with a blush on her cheeks and her gaze refusing to meet Charlie’s. She bit her lip, the sharp shark-like teeth poking out just a bit.

“I believe that’s the last of the venom, but even if it isn’t, your body should be able to fight the last remnants of it off without assistance.” Her expression turned sad. She turned her head to look back over her shoulder and out to the water. “I should go; I need to return to my duties at home.”

Charlie’s heart squeezed in her chest. “I mean, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” She gave Ripple what she hoped was a grateful smile. “Thanks again for helping me.”

Ripple held her gaze, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Charlie’s mouth. She pulled back, a soft smile on her face. “I hope to see you again sometime, Charlie.” With that, she pushed herself to the edge of the boat and pushed herself off, back into the ocean.

Charlie sat there for a while, eyes wide and barely blinking. She brought a hand up to the spot where Ripple had kissed her. A tiny, hysterical giggle bubbled out of her, and she fell asleep with a goofy grin on her face.

* * *

“Well, I can’t do your blood work, but I can see that the wound is healing fine and it isn’t infected. It’ll probably leave a scar, though,” Alex said, stepping away from where she had been examining Charlie’s back.

 _Ramble On_ made it back to Edlund’s Cove in record time, pulling up to the docks mid-morning on October 4th. Sam, Adam, and Moon had escorted Charlie over to the medical clinic that was attached to the Coast Guard office. She could have taken herself, as she was feeling much better after the healing that Ripple had done for her, but she knew they were all worried about her, so she let them do what they needed to to feel better.

“Thanks, Alex,” Sam said, as Charlie pulled her shirt back on. “We were pretty sure it healed fine, but it never hurts to make sure.”

“You said a sea serpent did that?”

“Yeah – looked like an 80-footer, at least. The fangs were at least the length of my arm.”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex said, sounding a bit faint. “Better you guys than me dealing with that.” She pulled her gloves off and started packing up her stuff.

Sam just chuckled as they made their way to the door. “Say hi to your mom for us, will you?”

Alex shot him a wry grin. “You know she’s gonna drag you guys to family dinner at our place at some point, right?”

“Yeah, that sounds like Jody.”

Alex’s laugh followed them out the door. The four of them strolled leisurely down the dock to meet back up with Dean and Benny.

“Your sister’s pretty cool, Moon,” Charlie said, her tone light.

He chuckled. “She is, isn’t she?” A big smile spread across his face. “She was always lecturing me, trying to get me to stop getting in trouble.”

“You were the problem child?” Adam asked, eyebrows up near his hairline.

Moon shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. “I suppose you could put it that way; I always liked exploring, but I usually snuck out while the caretakers were distracted with the other younglings.”

“Ooo, Moon, you rebel!” Charlie nudged his side with her elbow and winked at him. He laughed, ducking his head.

Their easy chatter and banter continued for a few more minutes, only to be interrupted by a loud bark. A golden retriever came barreling down the pier towards them. Sam dropped to his knees and held his arms out.

“Heya, buddy,” he said, catching Bones as he all but launched himself into his arms. He scratched behind Bones’ ears as he spun around, trying to lick every inch of Sam’s face, his tail wagging so hard Charlie thought it might fall off. Sam laughed, trying to escape Bones’ tongue.

“Well somebody’s happy to see you,” Gabe said, sauntering towards them, Dean and Benny close behind.

Sam stood up, dodging Bones’ attempts to jump on him. “Is he the only one?”

Gabe pretended to think for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“You asshole,” Sam chuckled. He walked up to Gabe and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“You love it,” Gabe said when they separated. He turned to look at the rest of the crew. “I heard you guys had a bit of a predicament –” He cut himself off, his face falling. His eyes went wide as the blood drained from his face.

Moon took a step forwards, head tilted and brow furrowed. “I recognize you.”

Gabe stepped backwards nervously, looking shiftily from side to side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy,” he said, his voice high and tight.

Moon took another step forwards, his head tilting even more as he examined Gabe. With no warning, he suddenly took off running towards him. Gabe’s eyes widened even more as he spun on his heel and ran back towards the end of the pier.

Everyone stood shocked at what just happened. “Moon! What they hell are you doing?” Dean called out, chasing after him. Just like that, the rest of the crew came to their senses and sprung into action. Those few seconds were enough that they weren’t able to catch up to the two of them. They watched, too far away to do anything, as Moon caught up with Gabe and tackled him off the edge of the pier.

“Holy shit!” Charlie yelped as the two men splashed into the water below. Everyone eventually caught up to the edge of the pier and leaned over, trying to see what was happening in the water below.

Moon popped up first, transformed back into his merrow form. He glared down just in front of him in the water, and a moment later, Gabe came back up to the surface. He started yelling at Moon angrily, but he wasn’t yelling in English. Instead, he let loose a tirade of angry clicks and chatters.

His bared teeth were jagged like a shark’s; his ears were replaced with a set of gold-scaled fins, and his eyes were solid gold.

Gabriel Pratt was a merrow.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


	8. Minutes From a Quarrel and Forever From Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly scheduled fluff to bring you: Tension™!
> 
> Chapter title taken from "It All Fades Away" by Stan Rogers.

Sam stared dumbly down at the water, down at his boyfriend. His boyfriend who, until about two minutes ago, didn’t have scales, or claws, or shark teeth. Whose eyes he had often compared to gold, but that gold was always contained to the iris, not flooding his entire eye.

This couldn’t be real.

This couldn’t be happening.

Because if it was happening, if what Sam was seeing in front of him was real…

He’d known Gabriel for three and a half years, had been dating him for three of those. He’d lived in the same house as him, laughed at his jokes, cooked with him and started food fights in their kitchen. He’d danced with him on Valentine’s Day and sat out on the pier on Canada Day watching the fireworks with him. He’d gotten shitfaced drunk with him, fallen headfirst into bed with him. He had fully and foolishly loved him.

And it turns out that he never knew a damn thing about him.

No, it wasn’t that he never knew; it was that Gabe _lied_ to him. He kept this from him.

Gabe finally seemed to realize that he and Moon had an audience. He turned towards the cluster of people on the dock. He swam forwards and pulled himself up onto the edge of the dock. His tail – _his tail_ – was glistening gold in the sunlight. Scattered across it were bright lime-green scales in patterns like starbursts, or fireworks, or galaxies, or any other number of poetic descriptions Sam could think of.

That is, he would be if he was in the mood to think of poetry and Gabe in the same thought. Right now, he mostly just thought they were the colours of betrayal.

Gabe’s eyes flitted from one person to the next, uncertainly. He coughed.

“So, uh… didn’t really see that one coming, huh?” he said. His voice was strained, his attempt at lightness completely undermined by the tension in his shoulders and the shiftiness of his eyes. He forced an awkward chuckle.

“No, not really,” said Sam, voice clipped, glaring at Gabe. Gabe winced at the ice in his voice; Sam tried not to take any sort of satisfaction from that. Tried, but didn’t succeed.

Moon hauled himself onto the dock beside Gabe and began chirping and trilling at him again. Gabe whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Not now, Moon!” he hissed. Moon fell back, still glaring at him like he had sucked on a lemon. He did, however, say silent. Gabe sighed and turned back to Sam.

“Look, I know this comes as kind of a surprise –”

“Oh, you don’t say,” Sam retorted. “Y’know, I kinda thought that in a relationship, you’re supposed to, I don’t know –” he pulled his mouth into an exaggerated sturgeon-face “– be honest with each other?” He huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Guess I was mistaken.”

Gabe’s face crumpled. “Sam,” he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

Sam cut him off. “When exactly were you planning on telling me about this?” he demanded. If it was just that Gabe wasn’t sure about how Sam would react to him not being human, then Sam would be a little hurt, but he’d understand. Very few people reacted well to monsters and creatures. He liked to think he was open-minded about that kind of thing, but maybe he had done or said something to make Gabe feel unsafe.

Gabe stared at him for a long, tense moment. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze. He sighed heavily, dropping his chin to his chest.

Sam could hear his pulse pounding in his ears – the only sound in an otherwise deafening silence. He wished he could say he was surprised by Gabe’s lack of an answer, but some small part of him knew that he would have known by now if Gabe had wanted to tell him. He pulled back, heart breaking, and nodded to himself.

“Okay. Okay,” he said, looking back at Gabe, his brows arched. “Good to know. Just, really great.” He flashed him a tight, fake smile.

Gabe scrambled against the dock like he was trying to stand. He fell forwards a bit, looking down at his tail and muttering curses under his breath.

“Sam, please, just give me a minute –”

“Just don’t, Gabe.” Sam closed his eyes and held up a hand to stop him. He looked at Gabe again, his mind a swirling storm of anger and betrayal and heartache. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

With that, he turned and strode off down the docks, wanting desperately to be anywhere but there.

* * *

Everyone watched wide-eyed as Sam stormed away down the pier. Charlie turned slowly to face the rest of the group. She gestured with her thumbs over her shoulder.

“I’m just, gonna, you know…yeahhh,” she trailed off awkwardly. She grimaced as she spun around and practically sprinted away down the pier.

“You couldn’t _pay_ me to deal with this,” Adam drawled, casting one last look over his shoulder at Sunrise before lazily strolling after Charlie. Benny said nothing and just clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving him an apologetic look before he left.

Moon saw all of this happen from the corner of his eye, but he paid it no mind. All he cared about right now was the merrow a mere few feet in front of him on the dock. He had been silent while Sam addressed him, but his glare hadn’t lessened in intensity. Now, he could speak.

“So this is where you’ve been all this time?” he bit out.

Sunrise rolled his eyes as he turned back to Moon, grimacing. “Oh, come on, are you really gonna do this now?”

Moon snarled at him. “Now? Do I want to do this _now?_ ” He pulled himself closer to Sunrise, eyes narrowed in anger. “I _wanted_ to do this any time over the past _ten years_. I _wanted_ to know what the fuck happened to you. I _wanted_ to know why you _abandoned us_!”

Sunrise watched him sadly. He sighed. “Look, I know how I left wasn’t the best, and I am genuinely sorry if the colony suffered for it –”

“I don’t give a damn what happened with the colony!” Moon exploded. Was he playing dumb on purpose, or did he really not get it? “You left us! Your clutch! Your family!” He felt like his heart was breaking all over again. When they had first discovered that Sunrise was gone, they mourned him, gave a proper celebration for his life, even if they didn’t know for sure that he was dead. To find out that he was here, safe and healthy this whole time…

“Did you even care about what your leaving would do to us?”

In less than a blink of an eye, Moon was flat on his back on the dock, Sunrise looming over him. His hand was pressed to Moon’s throat, but he didn’t press his claws against it like any merrow would in either a show of dominance or an actual fight. Instead, he just placed the flat of his palm against his skin, his strength alone more than enough to keep Moon pinned.

“Don’t you dare,” Sunrise snarled, “don’t you _dare_ think I didn’t care about you.”

“Well if that’s how you show you care, I must say, cousin, it leaves something to be desired,” Moon said dryly, his words choked from under Sunrise’s hand. Sunrise’s eyes flicked between Moon’s face and his own hand a couple of times. His expression flickered to shock for a split second, and he pulled abruptly away to sit back on his tail.

“I never wanted to hurt any of you,” he said softly. “I thought it would be better this way.” Much like he did in the face of Sam’s anger earlier, he bit his lip and bowed his head.

Moon felt the anger draining from him as he looked as his clutchmate, replaced with an old, bone-deep tiredness. “Just – just come back home, Sunrise,” he pleaded.

“I’d rather not, actually,” Sunrise deadpanned.

“We miss you, and I know the colony as a whole would be happy to see you again.”

“I’m sure you’re all doing just fine without me.”

“The rest of the council would be thrilled if you returned.”

“Ha!” Sunrise barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’re trying to tell me those two got their heads out of their own asses long enough to notice anyone other than each other?” He snorted. “I don’t buy it, cousin.”

Moon look puzzled. “What are you talking about? You worked well with Blood and Salt. They were so glad it was you who would be the next High Scholar.”

“And what about what I wanted, huh?” Sunrise demanded. “No one ever asked me if I wanted to lead, no one asked if I even thought I was _capable_ of leading. I didn’t get a choice in it.” He looked bitterly off to the side, staring at nothing in particular. “No; no, there’s no way I’m going back.”

Moon ignored him. “Another gold-eyes has hatched, but she’s young still, and won’t be able to join the council for some years to come. She needs guidance.”

“Like the guidance that I got, from a High Scholar who betrayed us? Like I got any chance of learning what the hell I was doing?” He shook his head. “Still not happening.”

“Sunrise, you have to –”

“I don’t have to do shit, Moon.” He glared at him. “Get out of here; get your boy-toy to carry you if you have to. I don’t want you anywhere near me right now.”

Dean walked up to Moon from where he had been watching, silently. He rested a hand on his shoulder, and after a moment, slipped it around his torso. He bent, lifting Moon up in a bridal-style carry. Dean turned so that he was facing Sunrise. Moon watched as he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again, to the same effect. He ended up shrugging, giving Sunrise an apologetic look as he turned and walked the two of them back to the boat.

“And thanks for ruining my clothes, asshole!” Sunrise called after him.

Moon barely heard him; he felt a pit in his stomach, like he was mourning his clutchmate’s death all over again.

* * *

Sam woke slowly, his eyes bleary and his mind sluggish. This wasn’t his bed. Why was –

The events of the previous day came crashing back to him like a rockslide. He put his hands on his face and scrubbed. He hadn’t wanted to go back to the house, so he slept in his cabin on the boat. He slowly sat up, groaning; he would have loved to have slept on a half-decent mattress for the first time in a month, but he didn’t particularly want to be anywhere near Gabe right now.

He moved robotically through his morning routine. He didn’t know what he was going to do; normally when they got back home, he’d spend as much time with Gabe as possible, but now…

Sam sighed, wallowing as he tied his hair up. He’d spent enough time cooped up with the rest of the crew, and while he loved them, he needed different company for a while. He could go visit the Harvelles at The Drunken Sailor, but he didn’t really think being around alcohol right now was a good idea. He knew Jody was always trying to get him to come around for dinner, but he didn’t want to just show up at her house with all his problems.

He stepped off the boat and onto the docks. As he meandered around in the chilly October mid-morning, he realized there was someone else in town he hadn’t seen in a while. He turned around and headed back the way he came, to the other end of the docks. He reached an old shop out on the very edge of town. The sign was faded and the paint was cracked and peeling, but it somehow felt like coming home.

He pushed open the door to Singer’s Shipbuilding and Repair and walked right in. The shop was big and open, large bay windows filling the workshop area with light. A couple of different boats were up on sawhorses – several were fiberglass, completed boats that were in for various repairs and tune-ups. There was also a beautiful half-constructed wooden sailboat; the sunlight streaming in the windows caught the curve of the hull, the pale wood glowing in the light.

The whole shop smelled of sawdust and gasoline. Sam didn’t have the same predilection towards mechanics – that was his father and brother’s territory – but he could certainly appreciate both the technical skill and the artistry that went into building a boat. He wandered towards the back of the shop. He heard someone rummaging around somewhere towards the main office.

“Hey Bobby, you in here somewhere?” he called. The rummaging stopped, and was swiftly replaced with a rough grumbling voice and heavy footsteps. The door to the office swung open a moment later.

“Sam?” asked Bobby. Not much had changed in the couple of months since Sam saw him last; his voice was just as gruff, his clothes just as well-worn and his old baseball cap just as shabby. The only real difference Sam could see was a little more white amongst the grey in his beard. He took a look at Sam and sighed exasperatedly. “Alright, what’n the hell’d you and your brother get yourselves into now?”

“No, no, nothing like that, Bobby, everything’s good,” Sam said, chuckling. He ignored the bitterness he felt at the white lie, and stepped up to give Bobby a quick hug. Bobby clapped him on the back and stepped back to look at him.

“Well, y’don’t usually stop in for a social call. What’s up?”

“We just got back in town, and I figured it’s been a while since I’ve stopped in.” He spread his arms and looked around the shop. “You need an extra set of hands for anything?”

Bobby looked at him suspiciously; Sam knew that he could read him too damn well, but he also knew that Bobby wasn’t one for asking questions, especially not about personal stuff. After a long moment, Bobby nodded slowly, scrubbing a hand through his beard.

“Well, I’ve been meaning to get around to the Sundancer, if you wanna take a look at that,” he said. He walked over to a nearby workbench and tossed some gloves and a pair of safety goggles at Sam, who caught them. Bobby grabbed another set for himself. “I’ll be workin’ on the sailboat if you need me.”

The two worked quietly for a while, focused on their tasks. The only sounds punctuating the calmness were the occasional whir of power tools and one man or the other humming sporadically as they worked. Sam lost himself in the work, the repetitive motions of taking apart and cleaning and replacing parts of the Sundancer. He almost managed to forget why he was even there; that, of course, was when Bobby decided to speak up.

“I gotta say, Sam, I’m surprised you’re here,” he said. “Normally, you and your boy are attached at the hip when you’re home.”

Sam nearly dropped the screwdriver he was holding. “Sorry Bobby – I know I haven’t been the best with staying in touch –”

Bobby held up a hand to stop him. “You know I don’t give a damn about that, and you also know damn well that’s not what I meant.” He turned away from the sailboat to give Sam a scrutinizing look. “Not that I actually wanna know, but what’s goin’ on?”

Sam sighed as he looked down at the Sundancer. “To be honest, I’m not feeling up to being around Gabe right now.”

He heard Bobby turn back around and start working on the sailboat again. “What’d that idjit do?”

“He lied to me, Bobby. He’s been lying to me for a long time.”

Bobby grunted. “Was it the ‘eatin’ your food from the fridge and claimed he didn’t’ sorta lyin’, or the ‘he’s been havin’ an affair’ sorta lyin’?”

“He isn’t human.”

Sam heard the movement behind him stop dead. It was quiet for a good minute or so before Bobby spoke up again.

“Huh.”

“’Huh’?” Sam spun around to look at Bobby. “That’s it? ‘Huh’?”

Bobby held up his hands. “Now, I’m not sayin’ it don’t come as a shock,” he said placatingly, “and I’m not sayin’ it was fair t’keep it from you. But I’m not sure you’re bein’ entirely fair, either.”

“What?! What did I do?”

Bobby sighed and put down the tools he was holding. “I’ve known you ‘n’ your brother since you could barely walk, an’ I don’t know if you remember much from that age, but you could be a real judgmental lil’ shit when you wanted to.” He paused to think for a moment. “Still can be, come t’think of it.”

Sam shifted, a bit put-out. Sure, he’d sometimes make comments about stuff like Dean’s diet, or his taste in music, or he’d tease Gabe about his candy hoard, but he didn’t think he was really judgmental, per say.

“I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Nah, you’re not, but you are pretty damn stubborn.” Bobby waved a hand. “Take Gabe, for instance.”

“What about him?”

“So he’s not human; ‘s he something that eats people?”

“What? No!”

“Has he ever tried t’hurt anybody?”

“No, of course not.”

“He ever give you any reason to believe he would?”

“No!”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” At Sam’s stunned silence, Bobby carried on. “Y’said it yourself, he ain’t hurtin’ anybody, and he clearly doesn’t wanna. What’s it matter if he’s not quite who you thought he was? He’s been in town for about a decade, now – he clearly cares more about bein’ human that whatever it is he was born as.”

Bobby picked his tools back up. He turned back around to Sam and pointed his level at him. “And you need to get your head outta your ass and decide what’s more important: what he is, or who he is.”

With that, Bobby turned back to the sailboat and got back to work. For the rest of the day, Sam worked silently, lost in thought.

* * *

Since the confrontation on the dock, Dean and Moon kept as busy as they could around town. Dean showed him around the (very few) attractions in Edlund’s Cove. Since they couldn’t go to the Crab Shack, the two of them took date night to The Drunken Sailor. Dean hadn’t really been planning on introducing Moon to Ellen and Jo, but he figured it’d be better to rip the bandaid off.

Ellen didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him, given how busy the tavern was, but she did at least get to say hi, and embarrass the hell out of Dean with her ‘you-best-treat-him-right’ talk. Only after several weak “Yes ma’ams” from Dean did she duck back behind the bar.

Jo, however, shamelessly abandoned her post to hang out with the two of them for the night.

“So you’re a merman?”

Moon took a sip of beer and wrinkled his nose. “This is disgusting,” he said to Dean, who just chuckled. He turned to Jo. “Your culture has many stories about my species, but “merman”,” again with the adorable air-quotes, “is inaccurate. I’m a merrow.”

“Hmm.” Jo nodded. “So how’d you get saddled with this lug?” she asked, jerking her head towards Dean.

“Hey, who’re you callin’ a lug, Harvelle?” Dean shot back, grinning all the while. Jo just tipped her head back and laughed from where she sat perched on their table.

“I wouldn’t call it “saddled”, per say. I saved his life from a storm, and followed along on his ship’s travels.”

“He basically stalked me,” Dean said, winking at Moon, who shot him a fondly exasperated look in return.

“Wait, _you’re_ the one that saved him after that storm?” Jo asked. She turned to Dean, “the one where you went missing for months?”

He tipped his bottle to her. “That’s the one.”

“How’d you keep him for so long?” she asked, leaning forwards.

Dean rolled up his sleeve, showing her the magic tattoo. “He and his sister used some kind of merrow healing magic on me.”

Jo smirked and nudged Dean. “Dude, he totally branded you.” Dean shoved his sleeve back down, feeling his face grow hot. Jo just cackled at him.

“I’m glad this is so entertaining for you,” he muttered.

The next hour or so continued in much the same manner, with Dean and Moon filling Jo in on their past month of adventures, and Jo in return regaling them with stories of the sea hunters who’d come through town since they’d been gone. They probably could have talked for hours, if it wasn’t for a sharp “Joanna Beth!” from Ellen as she delivered Moon a replacement drink. Jo winced guiltily as she hopped off the table and scampered back behind the bar.

Dean chuckled as she left. He turned back to Moon as he tried an experimental sip of his Blue Hawaiian. “Better?”

Moon set the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Much better. How do you stand to drink that?” he asked, motioning at Dean’s bottle.

He shrugged. “Honestly? It’s mostly that I’m used to it by now. If we weren’t in a bar where everyone knows me, then I’d probably order one of those for myself,” he said, motioning to Moon’s cocktail.

Moon tipped his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing. After a minute or two of companionable silence, he spoke up again.

“I’m going to have to go back to the colony,” he said softly.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. Plastering on a fake smile, he caught Moon’s eye. “Of course; you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” He took a sip of his beer to try to ease the lump in his throat. “When are you planning on leaving?” He selfishly hoped it wasn’t going to be urgent.

“As soon as is possible, I think. I don’t want to cause any undue stress with my absence.”

Dean could have screamed from the irony. Instead, he just nodded along. “It would take a day or two to get the boat stocked up and ready to go, but we could head out then.”

Moon looked puzzled. “Why would you be going?”

“What do you mean, why would I be going? I wanna say goodbye, at least, if you’re gonna leave!”

“Leave? Wha-” Moon cut himself off. “No, no no no. I’m not leaving, Dean. I need to go back to the colony to tell them that I’m planning on staying with you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean groaned, tipping his head back against the back of the booth his heart nearly jumping out of his chest, “you damn near gave me a heart attack, babe.” He nearly swallowed his tongue as the endearment slipped out, but Moon either didn’t realize the significance of it or just flat-out didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear.” He reached a hand along the table to rest it on top of Dean’s. “The colony shouldn’t have a problem with my decision, but they need to know that I’ll be leaving in order to do any necessary restructuring – patrol and guard schedules, food rations, things like that.” His expression turned sheepish. “I…also left without much explanation, so I’m sure my clutch would like to know I’m okay.”

Dean flipped his hand so it as holding Moon’s. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Moon’s hand, thinking. “Obviously I’m okay with that, and that all makes sense,” he said slowly, “but it sounds to me like you did the same thing that you were just blaming Gabe for.”

Dean felt more than saw Moon tense up beside him. “That’s nothing like what he did.” His voice was icy cold. If Dean were smart, he wouldn’t push the subject.

But, Dean had never been one to _not_ push the subject. “I dunno, babe; you were mad that he left you guys without saying goodbye to join the human world, and then you went ahead and left without saying goodbye to join the human world.” Dean shrugged. “It’s a little hypocritical.”

Moon glared at him. “He left us for ten years; I’ve only been gone for a little over a month, and I’m planning on going back right now to tell them where I’ve been.”

“But your clutch doesn’t know that; for all they know, they’ve lost a second clutchmate.” Moon reared back, his eyes wide in realization. Dean sighed. “Look, I love you and Sammy above everything else, and I’ll gladly kick Gabe’s ass if I find out he’s done anything to deliberately hurt either of you, but right now it sounds like you’re both blaming him for stuff that isn’t really his fault.” He grimaced. “As much as it pains me to admit that.”

Silence stretched on after Dean finished speaking. He’d really expected some kind of response from Moon by now. He looked up, only to find Moon staring at him with the most reverent expression he’d ever seen. Dean glanced around, shifting in his seat.

“What?”

“You love me?” Moon asked, his tone impossibly tender.

Dean’s eyes widened as his face turned completely crimson. “I didn’t – That’s not – my _point is_ ,” he said, pointedly not looking at Moon at the moment, “is that you’re not being totally fair right now.”

Moon turned his gaze down to the table sadly. “No, you’re right. I’ll talk to him – not tonight; he probably wouldn’t listen to me if I tried, but maybe tomorrow.” He started picking at his napkin, tearing it into little pieces. “I would still ask him to come with me to the colony.” Moon sighed. “I can’t tell him he needs to return when I myself am leaving, but at least the rest of our clutch and the Council should know the truth about what happened to him.”

Dean put his hand over Moon’s to stop his mutilation of the napkin. His hands stilled, and Dean wrapped his fingers around them. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Moon’s temple.

“I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight. Tomorrow you can talk to Gabe, and,” Dean groaned as he stood up, “I guess I’ll try to talk to Sammy.”

“I know that must be terribly difficult for you.” Moon said as he slid out of the booth behind him, smirking.

“You’re such an asshole,” Dean said, unable to keep himself from grinning. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. It’s still good enough weather for a walk along the beach at night.”

Moon hummed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

The next two days passed in much the same manner: Dean and Moon explored the town; Charlie, Adam, and Benny worked to get the boat ready for their sooner-than-expected departure; and Sam avoided Gabe like the plague.

Moon stopped by the restaurant and in a corner table over Gabe’s fried whiting and sweet potato fries, the two of them talked. Apologies were traded between them, and Moon explained his desire for Gabe to come back to the colony, if only to let their clutch know he was okay. To his surprise, Gabe agreed.

He was starting to regret that now.

The boat was loaded up with fresh groceries and extra ammunition, and everyone else was loading up their suitcases and striding confidently on board. Gabe looked up at the boat with a grimace.

 _Might as well get this over with_ , he thought miserably. He walked onto the boat and ducked into the main deck. Sam was already there, sitting at the table and typing away on his laptop. He looked up when he heard Gabe’s footsteps. He stared at him for a moment, a completely incomprehensible expression on his face, then very clearly ducked his gaze back down to his laptop and ignored him.

Gabe sighed. At least the cot was still set up from when Charlie was injured so he’d have somewhere to sleep. Dean came up behind Gabe, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright people,” he said, addressing the crew at large, “Moon says it’s about a three day trip out to the colony. We’ll be pulling out in about 10 minutes, to make sure you’ve got everything you need on board.”

This was gonna be the longest three days of Gabe’s life.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, there's now a final chapter listed! We're in the home stretch now.
> 
> I wasn't even planning on having Jo and Ellen show up, but I was writing, thinking "Where can Dean and Moon go that's not the restaurant?" and my brain went "The bar!" and I was like "Oh, that' a great idea," and then Jo just showed up like "Hi, I'm part of the story now."  
> So, they're part of the story now.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	9. The Ocean's Gonna Take Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "So Blue" by Stan Rogers. The song being sung in this chapter is "Fast As I Can" by Great Big Sea. I would highly recommend [giving it a listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-S6DQjx3Z8) while you read that part. (If that link doesn't work, try [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qjmSR7q9B8).)

It was three days trip to the edge of the colony’s territory, and for the first two and a half days, it was the tensest and most awkward experience that any single person on _Ramble On_ had ever had in their life. Though the autumn air was cool and light, the atmosphere in the boat was stifling. Few words were exchanged between the crew for those two and a half days. No one dared to mention the reason for the trip, though it was on the forefront of their minds.

One part of it was Moon’s nervousness about returning to explain his absence and tell his clutchmates his plan to stay with Dean. If it were only that, it would’ve still been kind of awkward, but the crew would’ve been quietly supportive. But the ever-present storm cloud that was Sam and Gabe’s relationship troubles weighed down on the boat like a weighted blanket.

After the first night, someone had managed to convince Gabe that he didn’t need to sleep out on the cot. After that, he curled up on the couch in the main deck instead, his back to the rest of the room. Walking into the main deck felt like walking into a minefield. The crew awkwardly tiptoed and shuffled around when they absolutely had to be in there, and scurried away as quickly as possible. Occasionally, a pitying glance would be sent Gabe’s way before they left as unobtrusively as possible.

Gabe didn’t discourage this behavior; he didn’t do much of anything on the trip there, period. He was mostly lost in his own head, alternating between feeling miserable about going back to the colony and feeling miserable about how everything had happened with Sam. He slept often, but not well.

Sam, for his part, didn’t come out of his cabin. Dean would leave food at the door a couple of times a day and take the dishes away a few minutes later. Sometimes other members of the crew would knock at his door and try to talk to him. They never got a response.

Because of all this, everyone mostly kept to themselves on the trip, hunkered down in their cabins – or, in Dean and Moon’s case, at the helm – and keeping themselves idly entertained. Despite the fact that the sea was fair and they made good time, the journey seemed to be never-ending.

They anchored as night fell at the end of the second full day of their trip. Everyone turned in for the night, muttering good night’s to each other under their breath. Gabe tossed and turned fitfully on the couch. He struggled to fall asleep, much like the previous two nights. When he did finally manage to sleep it was for less than an hour at a time. He woke for the third separate time that night, eyes bleary and back aching. His mind was still sluggish as he flipped onto his back and lifted his arm to check his watch.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He dropped his arm across his face. Two-fifteen in the goddamn morning. He groaned, rolling over onto his side, facing out into the room. He shuffled around for a moment, trying to get comfortable. He could hear loud snoring drifting up from someone’s cabin – probably Dean or Benny – and soft music coming from another.

He sat up, suddenly wide awake. That music wasn’t coming from one of the cabins. Gabe turned to look out the back of the main deck. He could see a figure silhouetted against the night sky, the pale glow of a camping lantern the only illumination. They had their back to him, sitting at the edge of the deck, looking out on the water. His heart gave a painful lurch as he recognized the tall, broad shoulders, and that stupidly cute ponytail.

Sam’s head was slightly bowed, and Gabe finally noticed that he was holding a guitar. He lightly plucked the strings, the melody drifting along the night wind. His voice, softly singing, joined the melody.

_From the first “Hello” you gave to me,  
I've done nothing else but smile.  
And I know you're in a hurry,  
But it’s gonna take a while.  
So forgive me if we go slow,  
But there’s something I think you should know…_

Gabe could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He knew the song; it was one of Sam’s absolute favourites. They had slow-danced to it back when they first got together, in Gabe’s living room after a quiet and lonely Thanksgiving dinner, just the two of them.

Gabe watched as Sam took a deep breath.

_I'm goin’ fast as I can, please don't make me rush,  
This feeling's coming on way too fast.  
I'll tell you all of the things that you'll never forget,  
But I'm not ready say, “I love you” yet;  
I'm not ready to say “I love you” yet.  
_

__

Gabe eased himself off the couch. He padded, silently, across the floor. He barely breathed, because it would make too much noise. He didn’t want to interrupt this moment. He reached the edge of the wall separating the outer deck from the inner deck and leaned against it. He wanted to close his eyes, let the music wash over him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Sam.

__

_Don't push me in too deep,  
I've always been the fool who rushes in.  
I know, you've got to take the pieces one-by-one,  
‘Fore you've got everything.  
So forgive me if we take time,  
But there's something that’s been on my mind._

__

Gabe could feel the cool tracks of tears slipping down his cheeks as Sam sang. God, he was beautiful. He was so good, and so kind, and so patient, and Gabe almost fucked everything up with his stupid hang-ups. He knew why Sam was pissed at him – it wasn’t just that Gabe hadn’t told him the truth, it was that he thought that Gabe didn’t trust him. But how could he not know, not realize that Gabe trusted him with his whole heart and soul from the moment he first laid eyes on him?

__

_I'm goin’ fast as I can, please don't make me rush,  
This feeling's coming on way too fast.  
I'll tell you all of the things that you'll never forget,  
But I'm not ready say, “I love you” yet;  
I'm not ready to say “I love you” yet._

__

The song’s instrumental line played out without words for a moment or two. Even from his vantage point, Gabe could hear Sam’s breathing, deep and slow and slightly shaky. A fresh wave of guilt swept over him. How could he have let himself be so selfish, to choose to hold so tightly to his past and his insecurities?

__

_Oh, there'll be times when I'm mistaken,  
And there'll be times when we're gonna fight.  
Oh, but you needn't doubt we can work it out,  
And in time we'll get it right._

__

Gabe was tired of sitting back and cooling his heels. He pushed himself up off the wall and walked quietly to the stern of the boat. He gingerly sat down beside Sam; he must have noticed him, but he didn’t acknowledge his presence. He just continued to pluck at the guitar’s strings. Gabe pulled his legs under himself, taking special care to not get even a drop of water on him.

__

When the final chorus of the song came in, he joined in with Sam, their voices blending together in perfect harmony.

__

_So forgive me if we go slow,  
But there's something I think you should know…  
I'm goin’ fast as I can, please don't make me rush,  
This feeling's coming on way too fast.  
I'll tell you all of the things that you'll never forget,  
But I'm not ready say, “I love you” yet;  
I'm not ready to say “I love you” yet._

__

_I'm goin’ fast as I can, please don't make me rush,  
This feeling's coming on way too fast.  
I'll tell you all of the things that you'll never forget,  
But I'm not ready say, “I love you” yet;  
I'm not ready to say “I love you” yet._

__

The last strains of the guitar slowly died away as Sam finished playing. The two sat in silence for a moment, the cool night air ruffling their hair and the waves lapping at the boat. Gabe took a deep, steadying breath. He bowed his head as he exhaled, and took another deep breath. He looked up at Sam. He took a moment to trace the contours of his face with his eyes, committing this amazing man to memory.

__

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice still raw from the tears.

__

Sam huffed, a tiny, wry smile tugging on his lips. “No, it’s my fault too.” He pulled the strap for the guitar up and off of him and set the instrument aside. Finally, he turned to look at Gabe. “It was stupid of me to assume that I knew everything about you.”

__

“Yeah, but that’s for little things, like embarrassing memories or teenage crushes – not that I’m an entirely different species.”

__

Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t matter to me – I shouldn’t have acted like it did. I just…” He paused, eyes unfocused as he thought. “Did you not trust me?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically small.

__

“Sam, no,” Gabe said earnestly, grabbing one of Sam’s hands between both of his. “Of _course_ I trust you; I trust you with my life. That was never in question, you hear me? Never.”

__

“Then what was it? I’m not accusing you of anything, I swear – I don’t blame you for keeping it a secret. I just want to know if I did something, said something, to make you think you couldn’t tell me that you’re a merrow.”

__

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be.”

__

“You didn’t wa – wait, what?” Sam said, as Gabe’s words caught up to him. Gabe caught Sam’s eye again, bone-deep weariness and sadness etched into his face.

__

“I didn’t want to be a merrow anymore. I never had any intention of going back in the ocean,” he said, turning his gaze back to the water. “I’m pretty sure Moon told you a bit about our culture, so I’m sure you know what it means that I have gold eyes.”

__

“You were one of your colony’s leaders, right? A Council member?”

__

“Yeah – I was the High Scholar.” Gabe snorted. “Except the problem is that I never wanted to be. When I was young, I was separated from the rest of my clutch. While they were taught as a group by the caretakers, my education came exclusively from some of the older scholars in the colony. While they stayed together as a family, I was forcibly isolated to ‘prepare myself for my role in the colony.’” He said sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis. “I never wanted to lead, and I certainly didn’t think I was capable of it, even if I had wanted to. There were so many others in the colony, with more experience and better ideas, but because of some damn birth defect –” he pointed angrily at his eyes “– I was forced to.”

__

“I was told that the other Council members would also help to train me to be a leader.” A bitter smirk curled its way onto Gabe’s face. “What a load of bullshit that was. For years, they were both too up their own asses in self-pity and grief to even recognize I was there half the time. When they did remember I existed, it was to shoot down my suggestions for the colony. I may as well have been invisible, for all I actually managed to accomplish. So I left.”

__

Gabe turned his gaze back to Sam. “Was that the worst possible way I could have handled it?” he shrugged. “Probably. But I didn’t care; I was pissed, I was tired, I just wanted out.”

__

Sam wrapped one hand around Gabe’s. He rubbed his thumb gently up and down the back of his hand. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

__

Gabe shrugged again. “Eh, what’s past is past; I’ve been away from all of that for a decade.”

__

“Which is why you don’t want to go back.” Sam tilted his head to the side, towards Gabe. “I get that – you know how much I wanted to get away from my dad when I went to college. Maybe it’s not quite the same thing, but I do understand how much it sucks when you don’t get a choice in your life.” He sat silently for a moment. “I just wish you told me, so I could’ve helped you deal with all of that, like you helped me.”

__

Sam’s eyes shone with concern, even in the low light. He watched Gabe for a moment. After a couple of minutes without a response, he glanced around a bit, raising an eyebrow.

__

“Gabe?”

__

Gabe would have noticed all of this, if not for the fact that his focus was drawn elsewhere – namely, to Sam’s wrist. Wrapped around it like a hug was a bracelet. It was made of a leather cord with a drawstring at each end. Threaded onto the cord were four shimmering fish-like scales; the outer two were gold, the inner two green. Gabe lifted his wide eyes back to Sam’s.

__

“You kept it?” His voice was small, but laced with wonder. He had been so sure that the moment Sam realized what it was, he would have thrown it away, either out of anger at Gabe or horror at the implications of it.

__

Gabe watched as Sam’s expression melted, the fondness radiating from his eyes. “Gabe. Of course I kept it.” He flipped their clasped hands over so that his was on top. “These are yours, aren’t they?” He phrased it like a question, but they both knew it wasn’t one. Gabe rubbed his thumb over the scales.

__

“Yeah. When I first came to Edlund’s Cove, I needed money, so I pulled a bunch out. Sold them to a couple of pawn shops in nearby towns, spun some line about them being from some rare sea snake or something – I don’t remember the details. I kept a few; I wasn’t really planning on giving them away as a token, but I think I was kinda hoping that I’d be able to anyways.”

__

“I love you.” Sam stared into Gabe’s eyes, unflinching in his surety. “I never stopped loving you, Gabe. And knowing all of this, everything that you’ve done to get to where you are...it just makes me love you more.”

__

Gabe’s expression went all gooey against his will. “You big sap,” he said, voice thick with poorly-hidden emotion. He leaned in and Sam met him halfway. Their kiss wasn’t soft and gentle; nor was it passionate and desperate. The two didn’t move, but instead pressed their lips against each other’s, firm and solid, a silent promise passing between them.

__

They separated only when they needed to breathe. Gabe smirked up at Sam.

__

“It’s after midnight, you know,” he said, teasingly. Sam’s eyes widened.

__

“It’s October 10th.” Gabe hooked his arm in Sam’s and leaned his head on his shoulder.

__

“Happy anniversary, Sammykins.”

__

Sam stared at him; Gabe could see his eyes sparkle and the corners of his mouth twitch. He fought valiantly for a few moments, but couldn’t resist for long. He started laughing hysterically, and Gabe couldn’t help but join in.

__

They got control of themselves a few minutes later. As they sighed and wiped the tears from their eyes, Gabe was struck with a thought. He worried his lip between his teeth, debating whether or not he should tell Sam.

__

“Hey,” he nudged Sam with his elbow, “in the interest of totally honesty, there’s something else I should tell you. It’s not about me – eh, well,” he waggled his hand back and forth, “it’s kind of about me. But not really.”

__

Sam looked apprehensive. “What is it?”

__

Gabe looked upwards, biting his lip again. “There’s a couple of my staff at the restaurant who also aren’t human.”

__

“Anyone that I’d know?”

__

Gabe winced. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.” He tried to think of someway to break the news to Sam gently. “Ruby, for one,” he blurted. Fuck.

__

Sam blinked.

__

Blinked again.

__

“Ruby?” he squeaked “Like, my ex, Ruby?”

__

“Unless there’s another Ruby that works for me, then, uh, yeah.”

__

Sam turned away to stare, unblinking, down at his own lap. “She’s also a merrow?”

__

“A cecaelia, actually.” Gabe grimaced. “I’d say it’s a big part of why you two didn’t work out. You were in a bad place mentally, and she… well, cecaelia don’t really _do_ romance. I don’t think they’re able to.”

__

Sam blinked rapidly a few more times. His brow furrowed as he thought of something, shaking his head. “Wait, but…we definitely showered together when we dated; hell, you and I shower together all the time! How did…” he trailed off.

__

Gabe shot him a wry look. “It has to be salt water for us to transform. Otherwise you would have figured me out years ago.”

__

Sam shook his head. “So Ruby’s a cecaelia.”

__

“We established that, yes.”

__

“Don’t be an asshole,” Sam said, bumping his shoulder into Gabe’s. “So how did you two end up meeting?”

__

“It was actually while I was travelling here from the colony, funnily enough. She was in a very similar predicament as me; she had decided she had enough of her colony’s culture, and wanted to get away from it all. I did try to kill her,” he rolled his eyes, “but considering everything we’d gone through at the hands of her colony, I still say it was completely justified. She doesn’t agree.”

__

“Her colony’s culture?”

__

Gabe grimaced again. “Yeah; cecaeliae colonies tend to be horrifically unforgiving towards their citizens. Even a minor infraction of their laws is grounds for execution.”

__

“For a minor infraction?” Sam asked, incredulous. “What about major infractions?”

__

“Torture,” Gabe said grimly. “Lots of torture, until they beg for their death, and then one more day of torment, and _then_ execution.”

__

“Jesus Christ,” Sam said weakly. After a moment to digest that information, he spoke up again. “You said there was a couple; who else is there?”

__

Gabe chuckled. “Kali.”

__

“ _Your_ ex?”

__

“Eh, I’d say it was more “friends with benefits” than it was “full-fledged relationship”; and besides, we both agreed it was a dumb idea.”

__

“At the risk of sounding offensive, what is she?”

__

“She’s a makara.” At Sam’s confused look, Gabe laughed. “Yeah, I know; she was the first of her kind that I’d ever met. Hell, I’d never even heard of her species before I met her.”

__

“What _is_ a makara?”

__

“They’re a Hindi hybrid creature; their top halves are human, and their bottom halves are lobsters. No pincers, sadly. But I’d say the carapace makes up for it.”

__

“Did you meet her on your trip to the Cove?”

__

“Nah, she was already in town by the time I got there. I’m pretty sure she’d been there for her whole life, or at least most of it.”

__

Sam hummed. Gabe could see he needed time to process the information, so he sat quietly and turned his gaze to the waves.

__

The two of them stayed there for a little while longer, content to just be at ease in each other’s presence again. After a particularly big yawn from Gabe, Sam chuckled and slowly pulled himself to his feet.

__

“Alright, I think it’s about time we get to bed.” He picked up the guitar from where he had set it on the deck and put it back in its case. As he started walking back towards the inner deck of the boat, he looked over his shoulder at Gabe. “You coming?”

__

Gabe scrambled to his feet and followed Sam back into his cabin.

__

* * *

__

They reached the edge of the colony’s territory shortly after noon the next day. While tensions had certainly eased between the individual people on the boat, Gabe was still apprehensive about this entire expedition. He sat out on the deck with the rest of the crew, watching as Sam drew the anchoring sigil.

__

A splash from the water caught his attention. He got up and leaned over the gunwale. A familiar face, with dark wavy hair and sky blue scales peered up at him.

__

“Sunrise? Is it really you?”

__

He smiled sadly. “Hey, Ripple. Long time no see, huh.”

__

She returned his soft smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

__

“Good to see you too.” He sighed heavily. He called over his shoulder. “You mind giving us some privacy?”

__

The human members of the crew got up and retreated back inside the boat; Sam planted a reassuring kiss on his temple as he left, and he was pretty sure Moon was receiving similar treatment from Dean. Gabe started methodically pulling his clothes off. Moon didn’t seem to have much care for that, and just ripped his off in about two seconds flat before jumping into the water.

__

Once fully nude, Gabe sat down on the end of the deck and slowly, carefully, eased himself into the water. The transformation back was disorienting as ever, and it took him a second to remember how to breathe with his gills again. He looked up to see Ripple and Moon watching him. He gave them a sardonic look.

__

“Well, let’s get this over with.” With that, the three merrow dove beneath the surface and rode the currents to the colony.

__

* * *

__

__

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They aren't really relevant in this chapter, but I wasn't sure where else to put Ruby and Kali's tails, so I just stuck them here.
> 
> Makara are real mythological creatures - most sources describe them as being half crocodile, half elephant, but some say that it can be half any aquatic creature and half any terrestrial creature. I'm fairly certain it's the inspiration for a few different types of lobster/human hybrids in fiction, like the makrura in World of Warcraft.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. The Rhythmic Ocean, the Clean Wholesome Motion of Most of My Friends There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, we're finally at the colony. Just a reminder that all the dialogue between merrows is spoken in their dolphin-like language. I tried various ways of writing that to make it more obvious, but I didn't like any of it, so you're just gonna have to imagine it. 
> 
> Also, fair warning, there's seven (yes, SEVEN) tails at the end of this chapter, so my apologies for the amount of scrolling you're gonna have to do.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Straight and True" by Stan Rogers.

Three tails slipped through the water. Black, blue, and gold scales sparkled in the light streaming through the surface of the ocean, then slowly faded as they dove deeper down. The three merrows swam in silence as they approached their home colony.

The constant blue of the ocean gradually gave way, and the colony came into view once they got within a couple hundred yards of its border. The entire colony was set into a basin. Rocky outcroppings jutted out around the top, which provided them both with natural protection and easily-distinguished borders.

They could see the rough domed roofs of dozens of dwellings; many were built from dark grey basalt, but there were some newer buildings made from inky black obsidian or sparkling dolomite. Those structures were ones that had been destroyed in the war and rebuilt once the colony settled again.

The roofs and entryways of the buildings were adorned with braided kelp ropes threaded with glittering sea glass, green and white and golden brown baubles brightening up the atmosphere. A handful of other colours were present, mostly on the dwellings of the scholars who worked with them to create art and jewelry. Moon could pick out Forest of Kelp’s dwelling from miles away, the roof so covered in every possible colour of sea glass that he could barely tell that there was stone beneath. Imperfect pearls often divided the sea glass along the strands.

Low stone braziers dotted the sandy ocean floor. They were not so evenly spaced or indicative of walkways as similar structures were on land; instead, they served only as light sources in the ocean depths. Each brazier held a magic globe, glowing with a soft turquoise light. Similar fixtures, these with amber orbs, were placed in each dwelling. From their vantage point, they could see that light spilling out of a number of entryways.

To their left, a large volcanic trench marked the southern border of the colony. The spawning caverns lay nestled beneath the obsidian outcroppings. The caverns were carved out of the rock above the hydrothermal vents created by the volcano, providing the eggs and new hatchlings with a constant source of warmth.

On the other end of the colony, a domed structure of black and white marble, perhaps two or three times larger than all of the domestic dwellings, stood. It didn’t tower over the rest of the colony, nor was it particularly threatening or intimidating in its architecture. Nonetheless, the Council chambers had a certain gravitas about them, strong and solid and elegant. Rather than the outdoor turquoise or domestic yellow lights, the Council chambers were lit with a light, bright purple.

Maybe a hundred yards or so from the edge of the colony, Sunrise stopped. Moon and Ripple stopped shortly after, once they realized he was no longer following them. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“If it’s all the same to you two, I think I’m gonna split now – get this awkward Council reunion over and done with.”

“If you’re certain, cousin,” Moon said. He came forward and wrapped his lower tail around Sunrise’s, pressing the backs of their fins together. Sunrise closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He opened them again and gave Moon a shaky smile.

“Wish me luck.”

Ripple wrapped her arms around him and repeated Moon’s gesture with her own tail. “You don’t need luck; the Council has no ill will towards you, and they have been almost as concerned as our clutch has with your disappearance.”

Sunrise grimaced. “Yeah, I’ll believe _that_ when I see it.” He sighed, pulling away from his clutchmates. “I’ll meet you back here when we’re done, Moon.”

“Very well.” Moon tipped his head. He and Ripple watched as Sunrise swam off, reluctantly, towards the Council chambers. The siblings turned as one and Ripple led Moon down towards the colony.

As they got closer, more familiar sights became visible. Moon could once again see the warrior’s training grounds – a large, flat ring of packed sand, with various targets and training dummies scattered around the area. Nearby, the forges glowed orange-red as several scholars worked to forge weapons and armour and jewelry.

He couldn’t see them from here, but he knew that on the far side of the colony was the healers’ sanctuary. The vents from the volcano extended out to the sanctuary, giving the healers warmth and a variety of minerals to use as a natural spa. The buildings making up the sanctuary were all carved from dolomite and were open-roofed; swirls and sparkles of every possible colour poured from them as the healers worked their magic. A garden of corals and sea plants sat just behind the sanctuary, serving as a respite for the merrows’ mental health, as well as a source of spell ingredients.

Ripple lead the two of them towards a cluster of dwellings a little ways in from the edge of the colony, not far from the spawning caverns. When a clutch came of age, they tended to stay together and choose a cluster of dwellings near one another. There were exceptions, of course, but usually the closeness brought about by being raised together extended well into their adult lives.

Moon and Ripple were just about to dive down towards their dwellings when they noticed a pair of warriors swimming towards them. They had their tridents at the ready and some pieces of rudimentary kraken-skin armour, marking them as guards on duty. The closer of the two lifted her trident and pointed it towards the two of them.

“Stay where you are! What business do you have w – Moon?”

Moon watched as Storm at Sea lowered her trident, surprise evident in her eyes. She studied his face, likely trying to assess if it was really him. He was about to say something to assure her that it was him when the other warrior barreled into him. He was propelled backwards a few feet; bright red hair filled his vision, and a vibrant purple and pink tail wrapped around his own.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Anemone in the Depths exclaimed, hugging him tight. Ripple slipped past them while they were occupied and took off to find the rest of their clutch. It took a minute or two of Moon squirming for Anemone to pull back from the embrace. She smiled at him, her gaze soft. “You are okay, right?”

“I’m fine, Anemone,” he said, wriggling away from her grasp. “I wasn’t expecting both of you to be on guard duty; doesn’t Blood usually have to separate you two?”

Storm shrugged, sending her blonde hair swirling. “We got a stern talking to about how our squabbling was “unprofessional”,” she said, putting air-quotes around the word as she rolled her blue eyes. She didn’t latch on to Moon as Anemone did, but she did brush the tips of her blue-grey fins against his. She didn’t smile, but some of the tension drained from her face. “We are glad you’re safe. Even if when you make dumb choices.”

Moon bristled. “It wasn’t a dumb choice, Storm,” he bit out.

“You brought a human here! You had no way of knowing he wouldn’t bring more of his kind here,” Storm chastised. “Who knows what they could do to us?”

“But he didn’t,” Moon said, “and he wouldn’t. He’s a good man.”

“Which you didn’t know when you saved him.”

“What difference would that make? He was unconscious for the whole time that Ripple and I healed him. He didn’t remember it was me until he saw me again.” Moon shook his head. “I know you don’t think it was a good idea, but Dean would never wish harm on any of us.”

“Are we arguing about Moonie’s pet human again?” a new voice interjected. The women spun around and Moon looked over their shoulders to see Ripple returning; close behind her were Forest of Kelp and Magma Flow. It was Kelp who had spoken, his sardonic voice a familiar comfort to Moon.

“Can it be called an argument when Storm is wrong?” Moon asked. “And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” Kelp threw his head back and laughed uproariously; Moon grinned and tackled him in a hug, wrapping his tail tightly around Kelp’s. Other than his twin sister, Kelp was his favourite clutchmate. Kelp ruffled Moon’s hair; he squawked and tried to do the same to Kelp’s sandy-blond locks, but he ducked and darted out of the way before he could.

Magma chuckled from beside them. “He’s a grown merrow, Storm – he’s capable of deciding for himself if it’s worth the risk,” he rumbled, his voice even deeper than Moon’s own. He lightly slapped his red and orange tail against Storm’s, in a move he was more than familiar with as a caretaker. She flushed, her face growing indigo as she slapped him back.

“Thank you, Magma,” Moon said as he finally disentangled himself from Kelp and turned to embrace his final clutchmate. Magma just chuckled again, thumping Moon on the back as they hugged. He pulled back, his hands on Moon’s shoulders as he inspected him.

“You are well, Moon? You’re not hiding any injuries again, are you?” he asked.

“I thought you were a caretaker, not a healer,” Moon grumbled.

“Well, you insist on acting like a youngling, so I suppose it’s fitting,” Magma smirked. Moon hissed playfully at him and pulled his dark hands off of his shoulders. Magma continued to laugh at him, but Moon couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Let’s not hang around out in the open more than necessary. Come on, back to our cluster!” Anemone ordered, flicking Kelp’s lavender tail with hers as she passed him. He clicked and chattered at her, tearing after her in a quest for retaliation. The other four followed at a more sedate pace.

The six of them filtered into Moon’s dwelling. It was just as he had left it – not that there was much within to change in the first place. There was his trident, his warrior’s armour, and a smattering of small baubles and trinkets, and not much else that could truly be considered “his”. The clutchmates crowded into the dwelling, jostling each other and chattering easily between them. Moon got pushed onto his sleeping hammock, and Anemone and Kelp crowded in on either side of him.

“Don’t keep us waiting, Moon, what happened? Where were you?” Kelp asked. Everyone but Ripple leaned in eagerly. Moon coughed, not looking anyone in the eye.

“I…followed Dean.”

“You WHAT!”

“Oh, Moonie…”

“I _told_ you it was a bad idea to save that human –”

“Everybody, calm down,” Magma said placatingly, holding up his hands to stem the flurry of conversation. Once everyone else had settled, he turned back to Moon. “Now, what were you saying, Moon?”

“I followed Dean; I didn’t know how compatible our magic would be with a human, so I wanted to make sure that that he didn’t end up dying regardless of our intervention. I realize it was a risk, but I had already done a surface-level bond with him to make sure that he meant us no harm.”

Kelp’s eyes widened. “You made a _bond_ with him?”

Moon shifted uncomfortably. “Just a surface level one,” he said, perhaps slightly whinier than he intended. He cast an accusatory glare at Ripple. “It was the only way that Ripple would help me,” he grumbled.

Storm sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her brow. “I still can’t fathom the leap of logic you made that would make you even _entertain_ the thought of helping him –”

“I don’t expect you to, Storm. All I ask is that you respect the choice that I made.” Moon paused for a moment. He tipped his head, amending his statement. “The choice _s_ I made.”

No one else spoke; they turned their wide eyes on Moon, waiting for the bombshell they knew he was going to drop on them.

“I’m going to stay with him.”

Chaos erupted around him. Storm sprang up from her seat, launching back in to her tirade about the risks he was taking for some unknown human. Kelp and Magma both balked at him leaving again so soon after coming back to the colony and started trying to cajole him into staying. Even Ripple looked slightly shocked – come to think of it, he never did get the chance to explain his relationship with Dean to her.

Anemone leaned closer in the middle of the chaos. She gave him a conspiratorial look.

“You know, I just so happened to notice – I think you’re missing a few scales there, Moon.” She tapped her fingertips on a small patch of his tail. The three scales he had taken out to make the token for Dean had only just started regrowing, and were still too small to cover the exposed skin.

Despite her soft tone, Anemone’s statement managed to draw the attention of everyone in the room. Four more pairs of eyes immediately locked on to where Anemone’s fingers rested. A stunned silence fell over the group.

After a long minute, Kelp started chuckling. “Well, I guess that settles that,” he said, shaking his head and grinning. Magma and Anemone laughed with him. Storm bit her lip, clearly conflicted. She sighed and dropped her shoulders.

“I still don’t think it was a good idea to save him,” she began, “but it was your choice, and I can’t begrudge you that. As long as you’re sure about this,” Storm warned.

“As long as you’re happy, we’ll be happy, Moon.” Magma smiled warmly at him from across the room. Anemone wrapped her arms around him.

“You’d better let us meet him! For real this time, not comatose in the healers’ sanctuary.”

“And you’d better come back and visit when you can,” Kelp threatened playfully.

Moon chuckled. “Of course I will – I don’t want to lose any of you.” He brought his hands up to wrap around Anemone’s. “And I’m sure we can arrange some way for us all to get together.” He looked over at his sister; Ripple had been quiet for some time – which, granted, wasn’t particularly out of character, but he had expected some kind of verbal assurance from her.

What he didn’t expect, was to see her looking nervous and worrying her lip between her sharp teeth. Moon was immediately concerned. He looked more intently at her, his expression troubled.

“Ripple?” He asked softly.

The rest of their clutch turned to look at Ripple. She hesitated for a bit longer, looking at each of them individually before relenting.

“I… have also found myself falling for a human,” she admitted.

Once again, a startled silence fell over the group. Once again, the eyes of the other merrows grew wide. Storm huffed.

“I don’t know what’s gotten in to you two,” she exclaimed, “but no one else is allowed to leave!” She glared around the dwelling at the rest of the clutch.

Kelp held his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it, cousin.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Ripple cut in. “Not for good, at least. I still find value in my work here, and I don’t want to leave the colony. But I won’t be spending all of my time here, either.”

Anemone got up from the sleeping hammock and pulled Ripple into a tight hug.

“You two come back and visit as much as you can, okay? I know finding a mate is exciting and all, but don’t forget about your clutch.”

The rest of the merrows crowded around them, and the six of them wrapped up into a big group hug. They stayed that way for at least a full two minutes, tails and fins twining around each other’s in reassurance.

Moon extricated himself from the middle of the group. He suddenly remembered that he had something else to tell them.

“Oh, right! Sunrise is alive!”

Chaos erupted once more.

* * *

Gabe swam slowly towards the Council chambers, a cold pit of dread growing in his stomach. It had been a decade since he’d last been here in the colony – ten years since he’d seen the other members of the council.

He believed Ripple when she said that the council didn’t harbour ill will towards him, but that was only because he didn’t really believe they gave enough of a shit about him _to_ harbour ill will. His mouth twisted in a bitter frown.

He realized he was hovering in front of the Council chambers, zoned out, and had been for several minutes. He shook himself. With a steadying breath, he cast one last reluctant look over his shoulder at the rest of the colony and swam into the chambers.

As far as he could tell, nothing had changed within the chambers in the past decade; the same black and white marble walls and floor and domed ceiling, the same light violet luminescent orbs, the same air of self-importance and imprisonment that those walls conjured.

He was swimming on auto-pilot, knowing the layout of the chambers like the back of his hand, even after all this time. He rounded a corner and the hallway opened up into the central hall of the Council chambers. A few feet in front of the back wall of the room were a series of carved stone chairs. They were similar in intent to thrones, though nowhere near as fanciful. There were usually three – one for each of the Council members. Now, however, there were four.

Rather than either of the other Council members that he knew, or whoever the replacement High Scholar was, an entirely unexpected individual was seated on the additional chair. Unexpected, and most certainly unwanted. He was a cecaelia, with hair as dark as his eyes. His tentacles were also inky black at first glance, but a slight movement as he rearranged them revealed bright scarlet suckers.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Gabe asked, his voice low and threatening. He had no idea how a cecaelia had managed to sneak their way into the very Council chambers, and he may not have been a part of the colony for the past ten years, but he’d be damned if he’d let them do any harm to his people.

The cecaelia gave him a wry smirk. “Slow your roll, there, hotshot,” he said, his accented voice deep and rough and velvety. “Haven’t you heard the news?” The cecaelia’s eyebrows twitched upwards as he noticed Gabe’s golden eyes. “Guess not.”

He got up from the chair and slowly made his way over to Gabe, his tentacles lazily swirling through the water.

“You made a pretty big mistake in coming here, cecaelia,” Gabe warned. The cecaelia, for his part, didn’t seem worried in the slightest.

“Did I?” He looked around the hall, facetiously looking for danger. “Seems fine to me. Hate to break it to you, golden boy, but I was invited in.”

Gabe bristled. “Hate to break it to _you_ , pal, but inviting yourself in doesn’t count.” He cracked his neck, baring his teeth and claws. “Now are you going to leave, or do I get to tear you limb from miserable limb?”

“Stand down, both of you!” a deep, stern voice cut through the room.

Gabe spun around to face the source of the voice. Hovering in the entryway was The Salt Left Behind After Waves, his two-tone silver tail glimmering in the violet light. The High Healer’s gaze was as impassive as ever, and his arms were crossed in front of his chest as he stared the two down.

“Stand down? There’s a fucking cecaelia in the goddamn Council chambers, you don’t think that’s cause for concern?” Gabe yelled, throwing an arm behind him to gesture at said cecaelia.

“Crowley is here as an emissary for his people.”

“And you believe that?!”

“Sunrise,” Salt said, his voice clipped, “much had changed since you left. Do not presume to know what you speak of when you have not been present to witness it.”

“What the hell could he have _possibly_ told you that would make you think that letting a _fucking cecaelia_ into the colony was a good idea?!”

“Not “a” cecaelia, mate – there’s a whole faction of us.” Crowley had taken advantage of the shouting and sidled up alongside Gabe. “There were a few of us who were…shall we say, _displeased_ with our queen’s leadership, not to mention her methods of rule enforcement. When the rest of our colony up and left after _horrifically_ losing the war against the merrows, we stayed behind and brokered peace,” he oozed; Gabe had heard used car salesmen with less slime than this guy.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Gabe groused under his breath.

“There’s about two dozen of us here; I’ve been given an honourary position here, as the de facto leader of our faction,” Crowley continued, ignoring Gabe’s muttering.

“And we’re just supposed to believe that you’re not planning anything, working from within to undermine the colony?” Gabe accused.

“Sunrise, that’s enough,” Salt scolded. “Crowley and the rest of his faction have been with us for almost three years now, and none of them have given any of us reason to believe that they have any ulterior motives for being here.”

“I’m sorry, have you forgotten that they tried to slaughter us? That they killed almost half of the colony? I leave and _this_ is what happens?”

Salt surged forward, getting up in Gabe’s face. “You have no right to criticize us – not when you turned your back on this colony!” Gabe snarled back at him.

“That’s funny, I thought you didn’t let me criticize you even when I was a member of the damn Council!”

“Is everything all right? I heard raised voi- Sunrise?” Blood and Wine Staining the Tide swam around the corner into the room. He was just as imposing a figure as always, broad shoulders and dark hair and powerful violet and crimson tail. He tentatively entered the room, staring at Gabe.

“Surprise,” Gabe said sarcastically “Now do you want to explain what fucking leap of logic lead to you thinking this –” he pointed at Crowley, “– was a good idea? ‘Cause last I checked, you were hell-bent on killing every last one of them.”

Blood didn’t answer him, instead staring intently at his face in the closest that his stoic nature could come to awe. “You’re alive,” he murmured.

Gabe sighed. “Yes, I’m alive.” He was about to say more, then thought better of it. He turned back to Crowley. “Do you mind? Private discussion happening here.”

Crowley gave him a dry smirk. “Not at all,” he said blandly. He slipped around the current and former members of the Council and out of the room. Gabe waited until he disappeared around the corner before heaving a great sigh and letting the tension drain from his shoulders.

“Look, I’m sorry I left so abruptly, and that I didn’t tell you when or why I did. But I’m not sorry for leaving.”

Blood and Salt both looked taken aback. Blood leaned forward slightly. “Sunrise, you had a duty to this colony –”

“A duty that I never wanted and never asked for!” he shouted. “I was taken from my clutch, forced into this position without any assistance from either of you, and judged by the entire fucking colony based on the actions of the guy who came before me, and I never wanted any of it!”

Salt gave him an admonishing look. “Sunrise, you know that the Council members are taken to be trained and taught separately from their clutch. It’s traditional –”

“I don’t give a fuck about tradition, I wanted my clutch! You assholes don’t know how goddamn lucky you were, with all three of you from the same clutch. I was taken away from any kind of companionship and family that I ever had against my will.”

He shook his head. “And you know what the worst part was? Maybe, I could’ve been okay with it, could’ve grown to be comfortable with my position, if I had had some actual fucking guidance. If either of you actually tried to teach me what to do, or treated me like a fucking equal.”

Gabe glared at the two of them, silently daring them to contradict him. Neither spoke, but both looked confused, as if they couldn’t fathom the idea that they were anything less than helpful. Gabe snorted.

“You were both always up your own asses in self-pity and grief over what happened with Pearl.” He watched Blood wince and Salt duck his head at the mention of the name, but he pressed on. “Guess what? We were in the middle of a war! We all lost people! But you two couldn’t get the fuck over yourselves to actually help me. I feel like every time you saw me, you were just seeing him instead.”

“Sunrise…” Blood said, his tone regretful. Gabe shook his head.

“I was useless here – any time I had an idea, you two shot it down. Every time I expressed concern with something you did, you talked down to me and patronized me until I shut up, telling me that I didn’t understand. So yeah, I left, but I was fucking invisible here, so what difference did it really make?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness.

Gabe shook his head as he turned away from Salt and Bood. He drifted over to the raised platform that the chairs sat on and plopped down onto it. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, his head tipped down. He hadn’t really meant to go off at them like that; a little part of him had hoped that it would feel good to finally throw his frustrations back at the Council, but for the most part, he just felt hollow.

He felt someone sit down beside him after a few moments. He turned to see Blood beside him, one hand hovering over Gabe’s shoulder, like he wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how. Or like he didn’t know if he would be allowed to. He felt a nudge against his other hip and knew Salt was sitting on his other side.

“Sunrise,” Blood said, voice soft and pained. “I’m so sorry we treated you this way. I didn’t realize –” He cut himself off with a humourless huff. “That’s just the problem, isn’t it? That we weren’t even aware of how poorly we acted?”

“We did grieve Pearl, and we had the right to,” Salt murmured, “but we never should have let it happen at your expense.”

“We failed you – and we failed the colony, by failing to teach you and support you as a fellow Council member. There is nothing we can do to fully make up for that.”

Gabe pulled himself back upright again. He choked out a muddled laugh-sob. “Where was this ten years ago?” he asked through his tears.

Blood closed the gap, wrapping an arm around Gabe’s shoulders. Salt did his best to pull him in to a hug from the other side. They stayed that way for a while, finding strength in each other’s arms.

“This doesn’t change anything; I’m still not staying here,” Gabe said, muffled into Salt’s shoulder.

“We won’t force you to; just know that you’re always welcome here, if you wish to return, even just to visit,” Salt said, pressing a kiss to the crown of Gabe’s head. Blood rubbed small circles into the nape of his neck with his thumb.

“I… I might take you up on that. At the very least, I should help the new High Scholar when she comes of age,” he admitted. “It’d be pretty hypocritical of me if I didn’t.”

Blood drew back a bit from Gabe, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps we could also visit your new home. It would be good to understand your new life better.”

Gabe couldn’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbled out of his throat. “Yeah, sure, why not – let’s show you guys around the human world,” he said, mildly strangled. “At least my boyfriend won’t have a problem with it, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.”

Blood’s brow furrowed. “Boy…friend?”

“My mate, in human terms.” He ducked his head, blushing and fighting back a goofy smile. “He has my token.”

Salt chuckled; Gabe could feel it reverberating through his ribcage. “You should tell us about him – he must be quite the character if he managed to catch your attention.”

Gabe felt the last of the apprehension melt from his chest; maybe they weren’t perfect, and maybe they never would be, but the three of them were trying to be better than they were before. If nothing else, Blood and Salt were trying harder to show they cared, and Gabe was finally telling them plainly how he felt.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to get home.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by my frantic 1 am googling: "What kind of rocks are at the bottom of the ocean?" "What are the most common colours of sea glass?" "What's the name for those vents that come from underwater volcanoes?" etc, etc, etc.
> 
> I also want to point out that the colours of the merrows' tail are based on my headcanons for the angels' wings. For the most part, these either came from my own mind or from popular fanon (like Cas and Gabe). However, Michael and Raphael specifically are pulled from "Neglect" by vanishingact here on Ao3. The description for both, and for Michael's wings in particular, stuck with me:
> 
> _"Michael’s were red so intense they looked almost purple… like an emperor’s cloak streaming wine and blood. True warrior’s wings. Raphael’s were a cold, heavy silver. Like gunmetal, but very elegant."_
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	11. To Find There But the Road Back Home Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, folks. It's been a blast writing this, but now it comes to an end.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Northwest Passage" by Stan Rogers.

Gabe somehow managed to extricate himself from the tangle of arms that was the Council. It took a good ten minutes of awkward but genuine farewells and promises to return eventually, but soon he was swimming out of the Council chambers. He slipped through the black-and-white marble halls. He was distracted as he swam, feeling both lighter as a result of finally getting all of his frustrations with the Council off his chest, and somehow melancholy at having to leave again.

Crowley was leaning up against the wall of the Council chambers as Gabe came out. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Gabe.

“Well? You boys all finished with your little gossip session? Braided each other’s hair, talked about cute boys?”

Gabe studied him for a moment, conflicted. He gnawed his lip, tipping his head to the side and steadfastly _not_ making eye contact with Crowley. He sighed.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry about, y’know, everything back there,” he said begrudgingly, grimacing, as he twirled his hand around in the direction of the chambers.

Crowley raised his other brow. “Oh?”

“I may not be thrilled at the idea of cecaeliae in this colony, but I don’t really get a say in it anymore.” Gabe shrugged, somewhat off-kilter. “And I guess… if you’ve been here for a few years now, and none of your faction have done anything to harm us, then you probably _aren’t_ going to do anything to harm us.”

“Oh, please, don’t be so emotional, it’s unbecoming,” Crowley replied, his voice breathtakingly dry. He smirked. “Feel free to drop by our district anytime.”

Gabe shuddered. “Nope, no way – you guys might be mostly okay, but I am _never_ gonna get used to cecaeliae and merrows co-habitating.” He shook his head as he started to swim away. “Take care, Crowley.”

The cecaelia’s low, raspy chuckling followed him out over the colony. Gabe swam leisurely back to where he and Moon had decided to meet up after their respective meetings. He saw Moon from a fair distance away, hovering in the water. As he got closer, he noticed his clutchmate looked… guilty?

“Moon, wha- WHOOF!” Gabe went flying backwards, the breath knocked out of him, as he was tackled by all five other members of his clutch. They were shrieking and giggling and demanding details of what had happened to him and what he had done in the past ten years. Anemone and Kelp were squabbling and slapping each other’s tails away to try to wrap them around his; Magma managed to sneak his tail in in the midst of the chaos.

“One at a time, one at a time!” Gabe laughed, trying to wrap his arms and tail around everybody at once. The rest of the clutch immediately quieted, nuzzling up against him and letting out happy little trills. Moon swam over, chuckling softly.

“I tried to stop them from ambushing you,” he said, sounding embarrassed. Gabe waved him off from over somebody’s shoulder.

“Pfft, don’t worry about it – I can take these guppies.”

“Who’re you calling a guppy?” Kelp retorted. The effect was kind of lost, considering he was snuggling into Gabe’s shoulder as he said it. Gabe snorted.

“Well since you asked, I’m talking about you, specifically.” A tail swung around and smacked him on the back of the head. He just laughed again. God, it felt good to see his clutch again.

They spent the next hour or so together, laughing and chatting easily between them. Gabe caught them up on where he had been for the past ten years, and the rest of the clutch told him about what had been happening in the colony in that time. He could almost feel the lingering grief over his situation in the colony leave him, like draining poison from a wound. Confronting the rest of the Council was the purging of the toxin, but being with his clutch again was what he really needed to heal.

Eventually, he and Moon (and to his surprise, Ripple) managed to pull themselves away. Hugs and farewells and promises to return were exchanged, much more freely than they were with Blood and Salt, and then the three merrows swam back up to the boat.

They broke through the surface and came up to the stern of the boat. Gabe could see that the whole crew was assembled on the outer deck, watching and waiting with varying degrees of patience and concern. Dean immediately leaped up from his seat and stalked towards them, then seemed to realize how eager he looked and slowed down.

“Hey, uh, everything okay down there?” He asked, one hand scratching the back of his head. Moon smiled brightly as he hauled himself onto the deck.

“Everything is fine; even better than I hoped, actually.” The two stopped talking, but continued to stare into each other’s eyes, seemingly oblivious to everyone else around them.

“Are they always that bad?” Gabe asked. Sam chuckled and knelt down, extending a hand to Gabe. While he was more that capable of pulling himself up, he knew that Sam was offering more than just physical support with the gesture. He took his hand gladly.

“Pretty much; it’s worse living in close quarters with them.” Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s amazing, really – they’ve been together for like, two weeks, and they’re already insufferable.”

“ _We_ can still hear you, Sammy,” Dean retorted. He gave Sam a look that would give his infamous bitchface a run for its money. “And it’s what you deserve, with how sickeningly mushy you and Gabe are all the time.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I only get to see him once a month or so, jerk,” Sam shot back. Dean grinned.

“Bitch.”

Ripple pulled herself on to the deck as they spoke. Charlie, unsurprisingly, was the first to notice her.

“Ripple! Hey,” she said breathlessly, almost like a teenager with a crush, “what are you doing here? I thought you were gonna be going home?”

Ripple tilted her head as she looked at Charlie. “I was; however, realized that I wanted to spend more time with you,” she hesitated. “Only if you’re okay with it, though.”

Charlie blinked rapidly for a second, then launched herself at Ripple, throwing her arms around her.

“What are you talking about, of _course_ it’s okay with me!”

Charlie pressed a firm kiss to Ripple’s cheek. A slow, bright smile spread over Ripple’s face. She bumped her forehead against Charlie’s and started trilling.

“Oh, that’s a happy sound!” Charlie chuckled. Ripple pulled back, startled. Her face flushed pure indigo and she buried her head in her hands. Gabe and Moon both laughed, gently slapping her tail with theirs and clicking at her. She turned her head to glare at Moon and tackled him to the deck. All she really accomplished was sending everyone into a fresh round of hysterics.

It took a while for everyone to get control of themselves again. When they did, Dean clapped his hands together.

“Alright, everybody – let’s go home.”

* * *

The trip back to Edlund’s Cove was a stark contrast to the journey to the colony. The atmosphere was as light and breezy on _Ramble On_ as it was outside on the open ocean. Conversation and laughter flowed easily between every person on board.

Moon spent most of his time up at the helm with Dean, but did occasionally come down to join the rest of them, mostly at meals. Charlie was holed up in her cabin, working furiously on something. She’s pop out for ten minutes at meals and get right back to work. If anyone tried to ask her what she was doing, she’d just tell them “It’s a surprise” and wink.

Sam and Gabe were practically glued at the hip – after their fight, they were practically in a second honeymoon phase. Sam was fascinated by merrow culture – and magic in particular – and pestered Gabe with questions pretty much constantly. Gabe would just give him the fondest smile as he indulged his curiosity. He was in the process of teaching Sam snippets of the merrow language; he wouldn’t be able to speak it himself, since his vocal chords weren’t built that way, but he would be able to understand Gabe (and Moon) when they spoke it.

They pulled back in to the docks in the late afternoon of October 13th. Everybody clambered off the boat while Dean tied her off. Waiting for them on the docks were Ruby and Kali, with Bones sitting between them wagging his tail.

“Hello ladies,” Gabe called as he walked off the boat, Sam close behind him. “What’s shakin’?”

Ruby lifted an eyebrow as she fixed Gabe with an unimpressed glare. She chewed her gum as she pulled her phone out and looked down to read from it.

“’Hey Rubes – I’ll be gone for a bit. You’re in charge.’” She looked back up at Gabe. “You sent me that in the middle of my shift. And then, yesterday – ‘I told him everything.’” She popped her gum. “Care to explain?”

Sam stepped around Gabe to face Ruby. “Hey, Ruby,” he said softly. He still wasn’t totally comfortable thinking about their time together, but he had a new perspective on it now. He would feel sad for her, being in a self-imposed exile from her people and struggling to appear human all the time, if he didn’t know that she’d hate his pity. She studied his face, searching for something. He wasn’t sure if she did or didn’t find it, but she seemed to make up her mind.

“Don’t go blabbing about it, Winchester,” she said; her voice was firm, but it lacked the usual venom that it carried.

“Of course not.” He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. “I just wanted to say… I don’t blame you for what happened with us. I never did. I just want you to know that.”

Ruby gave him a wry smirk. “We’re both just a couple of disasters, huh?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Everything is well at the colony?” Kali asked Gabe. “You don’t need to return there?”

“Nah, everything’s good,” he said, bending down to scratch Bones’ ears. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Kali.”

“If I could, I would have done so long before now,” she replied blandly. She watched Moon and Ripple step off of the boat with a calculating look, then glanced back at Gabe. She raised an eyebrow.

“They’re fine,” he said, placating her. “They’re family.”

“Hm.” She continued to watch them, her gaze impassive.

Gabe stood up from where he was crouched, stretching out his back as he did so. “You know what? We should do Thanksgiving with all of us this year. Turkey, pie, the works.”

Sam chuckled. “We missed it by almost a week, babe.”

Gabe waved him off. “Who cares about the actual day? We’ve got everybody here in one place, everybody’s happy, no one’s dead, I can cook, Lafitte I swear to god if you start trying to boss me around in my own kitchen again I won’t be held accountable for my actions,” he listed.

Benny laughed. “Maybe I wouldn’t hafta tell you what to do if you just did it right in the first place.”

“Excuse me?” Everyone laughed as Gabe and Benny continued to snark at each other all the way down the docks.

* * *

A couple of days later, Gabe closed the Crab Shack down for the day. All ten of them piled into the restaurant for their Thanksgiving get together. Gabe was like a drill sergeant in the kitchen. Ruby and Kali were used to his tendencies as head chef, but Dean and Benny both bristled under his command – Dean because he hated taking orders, especially from Gabe, and Benny because he steadfastly refused to do anything Gabe’s way.

Despite the chaos in the kitchen, they managed to put together a fantastic Thanksgiving feast; they had turkey and ham and several lobsters, four kinds of potatoes, garlic & bacon Brussels sprouts, Bhatkali biryani with prawns, fried calamari, and kundapura koli saaru. Gabe and Dean had somehow managed to make eight pies between the two of them, and Kali also brought out a couple of trays covered in rava kesari and chiroti.

They talked and laughed and lovingly teased each other for hours. Dean was pretty sure that they all stuffed themselves well past full, and everybody took plenty of leftovers with them. Gabe and Ruby and Kali all set about cleaning up, with Gabe practically shoving everyone else out the doors. Sam stayed behind with them to help.

Dean and Moon strolled down the street towards Sam and Gabe’s house; they were staying in their guest room, since the cabins in _Ramble On_ weren’t nearly as comfortable as a memory foam mattress. Dean looked wistfully up at the house as he unlocked the door. He knew that Sam and Gabe wouldn’t kick them out at any point, but he also knew they were intruding in their space. It’d be nice to get a place for themselves in town, at least for the winter.

They kicked off their shoes as they stepped in the door. He and Moon walked quietly down the hall to their room, content not to speak and just to be with each other. Moon walked in first, and Dean pulled the door shut behind them with a soft *click*.

“I had a good time tonight,” Moon said. He pulled his button-down off and replaced it with one of Dean’s well-worn band t-shirts.

Dean turned around and leaned against the door. He watched Moon fondly for a moment, his eyes raking up and down his body as he got ready for bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much to eat in my life! Do all your holidays involve that much food?”

Dean chuckled. “Pretty much, although we did kinda go overboard tonight.” He pushed himself up ff the door and sauntered over to Moon. “Just wait until Christmas – you won’t be able to move for days after _that_ meal.”

“I look forward to it,” Moon said. Dean leaned in and brushed his lips against Moon’s. The two of them stayed like that for a while, exchanging soft kisses and finding solace in each other’s company.

Dean abruptly pulled back. “Oh, right! I can’t believe I almost forgot.” He saw Moon’s confused look out of the corner of his eye as he started digging in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a stack of papers and cards and leather wallets and held them out to Moon. “These are for you.”

Moon tentatively took them. While he started poking through them, Dean kept talking. “Charlie did most of the actual work on these, but they were my idea. She’s probably giving Ripple hers right now.”

Moon held up the card on top – a Nova Scotia driver’s license – and stared at it with wide eyes. His photo looked back at him, and the name “Cas Seaver” imprinted beside it. He looked up at Dean, his eyes still huge.

“I hope the name’s okay – I just went with what I thought sounded right for you.” Dean motioned to the rest of the pile. “You’ve got a debit card, FBI and CSIS ID cards, Canadian and American passports, the whole works. That way you can also do some of the legwork on hunts with us.” He looked up when he realized Moon still hadn’t said anything. “Is that…is that okay?”

Moon’s face split into a giant smile. “Thank you, Dean,” he said, voice choked with unshed tears.

“Hey, come on, no need for the waterworks,” Dean said. He cupped Moon’s cheek with one hand, brushing away the few tears that had started to fall with his thumb.

“No, I know – these are happy tears, I swear,” Moon said, laughing. He looked down at the card again. “Cas Seaver,” he tested the name out. “I like it.”

Dean planted a kiss on his temple. “Good, ‘cause it’s a hell of a lot of work, and I’d hate to make Charlie do all these all over again.”

Moon laughed. He set the bundle of IDs down on the bedside table and wrapped his arms around Dean.

“I love you, Dean,” he murmured into his neck.

“Love you too, babe.” Dean rubbed his hands up and down Moon’s back. “Let’s go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only note for this chapter is about Cas (and Hannah)'s last name - Seaver is an old Anglo-Saxon name that, according to behindthename.com, is derived from the Old English elements for "sea" and "journey".
> 
> Thank you so much everybody for reading, for kudos-ing, for commenting, and for recommending this fic. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> There will be several timestamps for this 'verse - the first of which is already written. Go check it out if you haven't already!


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